The Fairywren

                             The high-pitched sound in my head,

                      those insects you eat, you will never be unfed.

                                      I see a small flock of birds,

                      with a dark blue throat, as I wrote in a sticky note.

                                       I find you in open woodland,

                                          where there are horrors.

                                        Striking bright blue head,

                                                  with a black mask.

                                                 I see you fly away,

                                   when you come back you die in my arms.

                                        Tears drip down out of my face to yours,

                                                I lay you down in the woods.

                                                I wanted to look for cures.