The nature, the ‘should’ is all intact.
But you must look further, seek the abstract,
The magpies watching with their pitiless black eyes,
Who will steal your jewelled secrets and spy.
Who will sit on your shoulder, whispering sin till you rely.
So little magpie, you must die.

Little shadows which dissipate, hiding in the trees,
Get you crawling, searching on your knees
Till the sticks and stones dig into your skin
And when you arise they throw them at you, so you must stay pinned-
Down, like the earthworms they feed on,
The ones they trap in their mouths and chew upon.

They’ll carry you, feed you to their nest,
Make light of you, enjoy you with twisted zest,
Celebrating with your gold together in the myrtle.
Forcing you to help grow their youth, continue the circle,
The circles which will spin before your eyes,
Allowing you to be controlled and hypnotised.

The circles which will surround you, trap you, Glad!
...Are those magpies for turning you mad.