Buzzard
by A. Pseudonym
I see the outstretched buzzard
but not what the buzzard sees
committed to his updrafts
and circling for carrion
I mark his outline shape
but not his dark bird eye
his soaring soul
preparing to dive
I do not know the buzzard
only what I can see
and you have no idea
what lies, in my eyes
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Dark and very interesting poem
A bit like Blake, deceptively simple, but self-reflexive. Cool.