March 23, 2011
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Birds were chirping in the sunny day,
But this went unnoticed.
Murder was quite near the park, though no blood was spilt.
Children played uneasily, and had a feeling of being watched.
Why is this happening? Nobody knew.

They only knew they were afraid, but wouldn’t admit it,
Stained souls too wary of themselves to show weakness,
But the knowledge of being watched put up their shields,
Blocking the swords of fear with their self-confidence,
Wary but ignoring of the immanent threat, the impending danger.

Murder was in the air that day, the croaks and groans sounded out,
A rally call for all the participants, preparing to strike
And yet, the wondrous citizens still went about their business.
With a final caw, they swooped, making the murder bloody at last.
Murder is in the air tonight, and its eyes are dark, and its faces black, and feathered.

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