song, brother

I am a precious song brother,

A cry in a gallant voice. A bother.  

A recital of recipe of a fight this night

For our muzzled freedom this hour.

I struggle even with my last might,

Striving to reach unreachable corners.

But I howl under the watchful eye

Of snappy grouchy vultures. I

Crawl brother, crawl, below the shadows

Of shadowy wings hovering over.

Because I am a song malicious.

Treacherous. The song  to be  in tatters.

In tears of blood. Snarled by

delightful claws of crabby vultures.

Set to pounce, and to prance my carcass.

And so patient these vultures are.