The Bird That Is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings. It hurts. More than drowning beneath the ice. More than remaining in a kindled flame She hits and I no longer cry. Why mother, why? It burned and it stung. The markings remained, returned, and were relived Looking, loving, and little known loathing were the known ways of living. Never was their pity for the child that cried Never was their relief for the child that tried You were that lovely bird that understood the complications of felicity Nothing looked the same in those dewy browns of yours. My everbeating would cry tears of joy. The others-they were yet to appear. Caring Mother, o' so fair You were that beautiful bird filled with care. The others came and were not alone. Their two suitors sat on the throne. Rampage and rage why did you come? I began to wither and wither slumping along. So very soon I- the child of fines- became a human raceme. The droops of the Lily of the Valley became the slumping of my heart. My lovely bird the enemy had taken you and the person you were is far from near. For that divine nature left its intricate self and you became irretrievable my big bird. All of your fairness died. With that went my pride. Mother, Mother what moved you so? Your intense spirt vanished only to supplement a monster. Mother, Monster and your tar filled lungs. How did I kill that liver that was so, so strong? The lesson of pain was one you came to learn. My darling bird why did you turn? My lovely bird and your big brown eyes I'll tell you once, but never twice. Pain is only a flower for it blooms and dies And a mistake can be killed as quickly as lice. You dear bird hurt me well. Though, haven't you heard? Weakness is a souls greatest strength. You brought me up, then you brought me down. You haved helped, hurt, and hindered my blazing spirit. A hero in my heart-I left you down in your deep black slumber. Escaping those terrible nights To go for the town of delights.