Consumed by a madness was Peter "Yardbird" Alexander
A man who never dared to shed a tear
A firmly planted rock was he; stone faced, he never ventured out to other lands or
Any place away from here
Here consisted of
The place he trapped himself in, both physically and mentally
A cage, a rage, in him and outside of him all as one
He stayed, unwavering, out of fear yet bravefully
Appearedfirm and tall and resolute
He was a bird in the yard who never tried to fly
Missing out, nevertheless, you could never catch him cry
Tis a mystery to tell you why
However, allow me to inform you of what I know
Though you might tremble hopelessly at how it was so
Still, the truth demands all of me; all I know was buried in a note
Cast next to Mr. Alexander
Beside his dead body, obliterated through suicide, you'd read and find he wrote
"In expressing my devastation I do not dote
I never left my yard, fearing no acceptance and no survival in lands afar
While everyone was dead, at least to boring non-consequential me, in the home I had known"
That, in full, is the poem of Peter "Yardbird" Alexander
It's detestably bad in two senses
Firstly, it portrays tragedy
Secondly, it doesn't end with a rhyme
