In Honour Of Thanksgiving

Darkness daunts my days,
Only scurrilous visions of light
Brighten the sight
That ebbs forth from my half-closed eyes,
Seared with ammonia.

These eyes
Which have never known my mother -
Do I have one? -
Fail to see the glory of life in a shed,
A debilitating compound,
Forcing my wings closed.

I long to stretch,
Even fly,
When I'm feeling bold.
But I cricker forth on enfeebled legs,
A deformed body
Only fit for a monster -
Or your dinner.

Only think of me
When you savour my flesh,
Spirit and soul long passed from it -
And I will be thankful,
As you most absentmindedly are,
On this day celebrating my and my brethren's deaths.