Like the Vultures that circle
The dead man's body,
The same reparative loop,
God, it's vicious and violent,
This loop, it's infinitive,
Like the Vultures that circle
My dying body,
As leaking blood dries, An
Once powerful limbs fall limp,
As I keel over and cry,
Pecked and picked apart,
Before I even get the chance to get stiff.
Like the Vultures that circle
The dead man's body,
I am faced with the same loop of death.