Controllers MAG

By Anonymous

   flying green creatures with notes in their beaks

swish up and through the clouds of gray

swirling around the evergreen's peaks

landing upon the wires of feeling

falling amongst the blowing timothy

breaking through the layers of straw

killing the thin bodies of hay

streaming tears are seen upon their dying faces

pleading to you, to me, to them for life

in return they lie surrounded by wooden sidings

dug into the earthen floor of death.





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