those ravens, they tell me to get happy or else
but an empty smile is all they’ll get from me

they cannot possibly see
these hellish thorns inside of me
(scraping me raw)
my tired hollow bones
inside a mess of straw & meat

it’s so hard to be alive
so much easier to be dead
but neither thing seems to like me
look, i’m still here

scarecrow in a grain fed wind
tossed by amber waves
coasting in a lonely life
there’s no way out

those vultures, how can they understand
they say if i’m not happy then to get lost
don’t they realise i already am