Bird of War
Kris CollinsLook high above and see the bird of war-
Knows no barriers, over them he soars.
VA born, washed upon Pawley’s Isle shores-
Spit back out into Lynchburg’s core.
Years of good days, the minutes turn to bad hours-
Black hole of depression tried hard to devour-
A young boy lost but soon was found
Among silent youth, where he almost drowned.
Misled by the Hater Town king, who holds the crown-
Covered up the eyes and ears with sound-
Televised “angels”, see how “beautiful” they sing-
About dollar signs, lust for power it brings.
No need for scales, when the bird has wings-
To balance his flight and drop feces on washed brains.
Oh how the wolf behind the veil of sheep’s wool-
Renders a voice-void and labels it null.
Just when you think there’s no hope, he pulls-
Young man with the flag that bears a pumpkin-like skull.
Just like those before him, who questioned the law-
THEY label him crazy and try to close shut his jaw.
But the bird escapes cages and openly caws-
Loud, so the people of the Hill City pause.
He’s smart and he knows you can’t do it alone-
Though the king’s dead, they bred plenty heirs to the throne.
Rebellious ones work together to prevent it again.
A city swallowed up by zealots with white grins-
And deep pockets…
Minions born every day, they don gold lockets-
With the king’s emblem you see large from a far.
Strategically placed like the deeply cut scar-
Sliced in the city.
Some may fall in.
Not the bird though-
He flies high over THEM.