Marc Aupiais Poetry
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She cries in anguish, cries in pain,
The Eagle, her spirit is Lost.
Night and Frost have brought her ruin,
the light, it only scars her.
The Eagle, her soul is lost,
Her glide, but a pitiful flapping.
Her searing cry reduced to dust, by the routes of endless chatter.
She flocks with pigeons, in contradiction,
yet her eyes' fire is gone
Her soul sold at the flick of a coin,
To her spirit, I say good riddance.
Daylight or stormy night, to me,
Her future does not matter,
I hate the one I used to love
For the Eagle, her spirit is gone
And with it her reason for living
Night and Frost have brought her ruin,
the light, it only scars her.

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