There once was a birdy,
who wasn't at all purdy.
She went on a date,
To find a new mate,
but no one could love her.

What should a birdy do,
when her mouth oozes goo.
A lonely death awaits,
your only fate,
because no one loves you.

Now do we sit and morn,
a life that shouldn't have been born.
Now her corpse just rots,
as everyone just forgot,
the dead birdy.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Miraman, in the year 810 AF.