You ask the sparrow why it sings

It twitters and twees hidden in darkening trees.

“Come down here!” you jeer. It widens its wings,

Launch off of the branch, careen into the breeze.

“Sing only my song!” Give chase over extoling

Your imaginary, emporor-thin expertise.

Yet the sparrow screams, refuses cajoling

Rodents scampering under your foot as you wheeze.

Jays screach in reply, geese and crow set off the alarm.

Twigs snap and branches snag on weathered skin.

In a mad dash, the sleeve rips open and you lose an arm,

Gaze unwavering as your true form sets in.

Gangly fingers snag a squab with oily smarm

To devour the youth with a sound unhuman.

Life skitters away, stunned quiet at harm

So carelessly wrought over your tempermental whim.

But maybe now the world will realize you are what’s Wrong,

Because what other monster demands a bird to change its song?