Perched atop a tree

Feathers black as ash

Feet pointed like swords

And eyes as black as a starless night


They look over there world

Such as kings

Then fly in a mighty twirl

Over the dead things


They ruin a pretty scene

Such as some people in our lives

They make the things that are pretty, and green

As cold as ice


With pitch black feathers

And a sharp beak from ear to ear

A vulture may look like

Something you may want to fear


But the vultures that swarm our lives

Are but things we push away

They are such as flies

We can always swat them away.