a double-edged sword, a rhyme of untold truths

a songbird, bright and tall

sat upon a wilting and swaying birch tree, 

wicked thunderstorms continue to rock the world of this songbird,

horrid and rough; shouting of songs 

stomach-churning truths with thundering clouds, and torrent rain

watching over your shoulders, the tune of a backhanded song 

the shattering of a reality you once thought was yours to walk on;

a broken song only to be left to hum a once-known thought

for the bird is lost, and the branch is rotting

shattering to the storm, hazy clouds, and the winds shutter

for this bird can only speak in tongues, 

leaving it to fend for itself