Oh those humans lumbering along
Conceiting per usual, walking in their strident way
Some are short, some are oblong
They fill up the night and day.
There is no room for me
I am just a creature of death to them
They stereotype me and make me pay fee
For all of nothing unto their thick stem.
And never will they soon understand
I fly above them, black feathers unnoticed and clean
Their uncaring society so very bland
They will pay me in return for they have done too much mean.
But for now I will fly away
And hope there will come better day.