Just something short.
Tilt your chin upward, forlorn blackbird;
your pride will soon congeal.
Remember, when you plummet into the ground,
you can't fall further; you can only heal.
Take the little spirit left in your chest
to release a painful caw.
Your beauty lies in your passionate lungs;
The sound, though mournful, is powerful and true.
All you have to do is tolerate the view.