Once in the drizzly morning haze,

A sight so strange attracted my gaze

I flew down to a street lamp burning near

'Twas the only one lit, left shining here

Dozens of ravens, plumes as black as the night

Were staring so intently, it caused me great fright

The object of their obsession, the thing of desire

Was a shriveled French fry, not much to admire

Then why, you ask, were the birds just staring?

Because this fry, a hand was bearing

A hand was bearing, and if the fry tossed,

Nevermore would there be sharing

The grimy man that obtained it smiled

And in his eyes was a look so mild

A look of joy, for he was homeless and poor

And I thought they looked very silly indeed

But within my chest a hunger was growing, yet nothing more than a seed!

The plumed birds watched as the fry was raised

From the McDonald's bag so worthy of praise

The hunger in my soul grew for that fry

A wild passion thrived in my blazing eye

For, being a bird, had a never touched

A human's food; I longed for it so much!

But alas, the fry by a human was devoured

Burning through my core

And the old man smiled and winked,

"Nevermore."