A raven

an eagle

and a crow

birds of pleasure

flying higher

slaves to their wild nature

like drunks on a bender

flying higher

their brains like a bottle, with every sip, becoming emptier

soaring in the hazy clouds of laughter

circling in the blue skies of nothing

loudly crowing about everything

even as their clock is winding down

and they are growing weaker

in their frenzied flapping

so loose, they are unwound

and gravity is pulling the strings of reckoning

a sky full of birds is falling

to the fruitless ground

of pride

and things better left unsaid

they invested their time in nothing

soon, nothing is all that remains to be found