The dead pigeon, caught on the wire, electrified, and down there, rotted.
Her eyes act as feed for the big black ants army,
That crowded in zillions, and tasted the jelly eyes, right one, that left was hidden,
As the head twisted, parallel to the ground, and the peak pointed towards north.
Was a treat for them, but one among the zillion is dead, and lie on the shadow of the wings,
None cared, and the feast is up till nights and days,
All that cared was survival.