A bird of immense size and stature.
Look at him,
Dark, dull, blending with the aftermath of destruction.
He always lurks there, yet I have never noticed him,
Perfectly camouflaged if not for the crimson warnings betraying his face.
I hate that he lingers like a bloody crime scene,
His blackened feathers soulless as hell — I hate him.
I do not want him, a twisted and distorted monster, near my young.
With each spine-chilling step he takes, I fear for my family.
I shriek! They flee from his grasp.
Why does he lurk here anyway?
This is not his barn, his community.
He is not one of us.
He cannot stay.
Is he the executioner of fiery destruction
which continues to terrorize my home?
O, How I hate turkeys.