A creeeepy poem. You know I'd just loooove for one/some of you clever arty folks to draw the sorrow bird...

The Sorrow Bird

If you should hear a mournful song
A tune that makes your skin feel wrong
The melancholy wail you heard
Most likely was the Sorrow Bird

Though to all else the room is still
It spins round you with hollow trill
And burns inside your brain and ears
The sum of all unspoken fears

The Sorrow Bird it rare is seen
Its feathers black, its face serene
It stares right through you to your soul
With empty eyes of coldest coal

It empties you of all your breath
And turns your living into death
For if the Sorrow Bird should show
So comes the hour to slip below