Sunday, July 29, 2012

The Swallow

I had a dream I owned a bird, a playful little swallow,
And everywhere I seemed to go, this bird did seem to follow.
I'd stroke his beak, he'd sing for me, and whistle loud and clear.
Yet this bird that I did love was cause for all that I now fear.

For through this bird I found we spread a most peculiar thing;
A plague upon mankind did this small bird appear to bring.
Where I would walk, and he would too, they'd drop dead left and right,
his airborne pathogen did seem to cause their mighty plight.

I stayed inside with birdie-dear, whose name I can't recall,
And watched outside as everyone would stumble, groan, and fall.
But fallen though they seemed they proved that dead they would not stay,
For after but an hour, they would rise again to prey.

These things, no longer flesh and blood, did terrorize the rest,
Those frightened few that pathogen had not seemed to infest.
With teeth and claws and screams they would devour all in sight,
But their hunger went unsated, and they feasted through the night.

We did hide for a time unsure of what we should next do,
that bird and I who'd seemed to be the cause for this new flu.
But we grew hungry too and knew we could no longer wait
For all these monsters to die off or their hunger to abate.

So taking up my crowbar we did leave our wretched home
And smashed in every skull of every horror that did roam.
We'd pillage stores and houses for whatever we could find,
But tried as though we did, we never found our peace of mind.

And so all our days were spent simply fighting to survive,
And all our nights I'd cower until morning would arrive.
And through the nights did I but question one imposing thing;
How did I escape the death my feathered friend did seem to bring?

My physicality had ne'er before proven itself a boon.
I was lanky, pale, and scrawny, and yet somehow was immune?
How had I, of all plain people, survived my little birdie's curse?
And so one night I did ask him, put my rhetoric in verse.

I said "Birdie-dear, you do not know of all the death you've wrought,
All the sickness and the suffering your tiny frame has brought.
You've pushed mankind to extinction, and I fear I'm all that's left,
And I wonder how, alone, I've lived through all you have bereft."

"Could it be that you're protecting me for giving you my care?
Could it be my simple love for you has spared me this affair?
I know you cannot answer, but I'd really like to know
How through thick and thin I've persevered through sickness, death, and woe?"

To my surprise, he answered me, his little voice like mine.
It appeared as though our intellects had somehow intertwined.
And what "he" said still haunts me, even though I'm now awake.
He'd cooed, "My dear, this event did you for I beseech to make."

"This nightmare I have wrought was brought upon by none but you,
These hellions' affliction did your rage and hatred stew.
My part in this was nothing more than outlet for your deed,
Within you did it fester, and through me your anger freed."

"Before you thought that no man could appease your troubled mind.
They were vile, they were selfish; even worse, they were your kind.
I saw the burden all the animus within you had but placed,
And so all your loathing did I seek to have erased."

"The method, though perverse, has done for you a twisted deed;
Through the annihilation of your race, of your antipathy you're freed.
No longer is there man for you to hate, loathe, or despise,
For all that you have ever scorned has met its sad demise."

"Though inherently you did not hate all men, you will still find
That within them lurked those traits that, like the others, had maligned.
Now you are all that's left to speak for what your hate has bred,
And alone you will remain until you, yourself, are dead."

And with that, I crushed my little bird, 'til all his bones did break,
Even though inside I knew that it was not his voice that spake.
I cried out as though my soul had been rent from its frail case,
I cried out, weeping and alone, as I drifted throughout space.

I had a dream I owned a bird, a playful little swallow,
And everywhere we seemed to go, soon death did seem to follow.

Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/Ocx8ihawRes/viewtopic.php

hook troy miracle andy whitfield kennedy demi moore roy oswalt

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