The Lone Survivor



He turned his great grey head
As his sharp eyes scanned his home
The empty wasteland that stretched below
Was one the place where wild beast would roam
 
But now there was hardly a plant in sight
The ground was crack and dry
It had not rained for so very long
Oh, how he wished to hear the peacock's cry!
 
He should be following the lion
Waiting for the remains of his prey
Or stalk the local wolf pack
Though they weren't great help on that fray
 
He should be soaring with his family
Flying over the tower of silence
And feed on the dead and decaying
For he hated all forms of violence
 
But his family was long gone
And so were those glorious days
Mankind had killed them all
By harming the environment in so many ways
 
He was the lone survivor
The only vulture left
And now that good was scarce
He had to lower himself to theft
 
As he spread his great black wings to leave his perch  
His heart filled with dread and his eyes shows with tears
For though he ate the dead
Death was one of his greatest fears


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