Ankyra Sound bird food

Child of the red moons eclipse,
They do not flinch at their brothers remiss
Birds soaring down at him with sharp talons and harsh nips,
If the boy is struck it may not be a quick fix

No sympathy from the wretch,
Their mother they will not fetch
The creature stood only on the edge,
'It was him! He ran out on his own!' They could allege

Fighting back a smile,
They hope this will last a long while