The Bird That Killed Itself

Death is all around us, where is the silence?

a little windy out, and closer, some violence

A lady with a baby, third floor; just across my window

holding the infant over the rail, denying to let go

But she isn't constant, not like the string and bird

where he hangs, swings and around him not a single word

Now there's multiple ways of how his fate had to end

and all end in a few stories, that i, myself, had to lend

The bird could have been sad and snuggled into that wedge

Discovered some string, and now he hangs there dead

Demented kids could have found him but they're not to blame

wrapped that string around his neck and used him as a game

The bird could have seen crumbs, unaware of those loose strings

got tangled up, choked, and now he nonchalantly swings

Again, there's endless sums of how this bird could have died

Nobody has the truth and nobody has the ability to decide

But the bird did kill himself, yes, even by involuntary assault

by being weak, so helpless, and ignorance made death his fault