Red Bird

                                                                                                                         para Tim Burton 

A bird is singing in a tree
And I think about death
The bird is looking straight at me
and taking its last breath

It sang for its whole life
And I think its cute
I cut its wings with a knife
Without being brute

A poem I write
To this dying bird in my garden
All the rest of it is white
And it is all a burden

Go, little bird, go
Find your dead zombie friends
I will leave fruits in a bow
And wait 'till it ends

The blood paints my garden in red
I laugh 'cause its funny
Your feathers are wide-spread
And made choke a bunny

I will wait for a wolf to come
From inside those woods
The white will succumb
to the hordes of hoods.