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Fluttering wings,
I perch on the flower.
Now still, I sing,
A hum on the tower.
The tower of the rose
My next juicy treat,
Gently pry my mouth,
For nectar so sweet.
My tune carries along,
Through the leaves of the trees,
A beautiful song,
Heard by the birds and the bees.
But this song is misled,
A masquerade to all,
A cry for the dead,
The rose I cause fall.
For this rose is a friend,
A pretty, harmless sight,
This deathly angel comes to end,
Without skirmish or fight.
My voice is a weep,
For the young rose’s demise,
Yet continue I will reap,
For sustenance pleasing eyes.
For although pretty may be,
This young fern on my land,
A vampire is me,
Death from the hummingbird’s hand.

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