Just ask Turd the Bird

She struts and straps with borrowed grace

A painted mask, a hollow face

She croaks and croaks making noises deep

These are but echoes of what she learnt like a sheep

Her brittle mind, a shallow pond

No depth no wade, no truth beyond

Delusions of grandeur and stories stirred

A spiteful hate monger, Turd the bird

She polishes her golden cage,

Arranges life upon a stage,

But pretty angels fool no more

A rotting heart will stain the floor

She cannot tame the man she wed

So throws sharp stones at hearts instead

Her tongue a blade of bitter spite

She feeds on hate her sole delight

No grace no poise just noise and flail

A clumsy crow in a peacock’s veil

Her ignorance, arrogance is a dismal story unheard

How to have a rotten day, just ask Turd the bird

She casts her rage on those who shine

Each jealous breath a curse, a whine

Her soul decayed her mind absurd

To be a horror? Just ask Turd the bird