Old Crow Poem by Derrick Andrews

A swift, seamless journey,
Towards crops forever grown,
You trudge slowly to a spot,
Where others have flown,
Your feathers, unbroken, your spirit, a lost token,
Released from the hand of a hard working man,
Rolling ever so innocently, into a bar lined opening,
Plunging deep into a sewer of a crowded, city slum,
Flowing dankly, among the waste of a metro so rank,
Like a patient brought slowly, lying gayly upon a gurney,
Quite content with the free ride that you're receiving,
But do you not see, with eyes so uplifting? ,
That travelling this way benefits you not? ,
Or are you content, in your depedent drifting,
Beguiling, and smiling, upon citizens steadily filing,
Upon a fabric brought about, by the toil of their knitting? ,
Do you not see the importance in creating your own? ,
Is your mindset that of a light bulb, permanently blown? ,
You've sat back and watched your team progress, but now it's your turn to score,
Or do you choose to remain useless and dependent, forever-more? ,
You claim you wings do not work, then turn away with a smirk,
Is reliance more important than your own will to move? ,
Pray tell me, old crow, why are you so lazy? ,
Do you not possess a beak, sharp and straight of your own? ,
And Alas! , You take flight! , as I've hoped for all along! ,
Will you become like the eagle, self sufficient and strong? ,
Or is it to the kill of another, yet again, you have flown?