Here's an old song I wrote last year after my dog broke into the bird cage. We lost 10 parakeets, some were eaten, the others flew away.
Well anyways, I don't think of this as a song of my grief over the pets (although it started out that way). It's like a sad love song...
Somehow, I always seem to go through the same cycle of POVs each year...

I lost my loves again
Ten today, snatched away.
And I.. can't love again.
After all these times, of giving second chances.
You.. said it'll be all right,
'Nd now I don't have the strength, to keep up the fight
So coax me with those silent 'sh's
"Darling, will just start again."
"Darling we'll just do it again."

British tea, or Injun tea--
What's it matter, to me.
Salty tears, or sweet blue tears
No one's there to wipe them
Changing, changing, changing, changing..
It always starts the same way
"Where you going with this, baby?"
Doesn't matter anyway.

I lost my loves again
Goodbye my bird, fly away.
And while I might fall dead today
Tomorrow's sun brings a new day
And tomorrow's just a few hours away.

Another poem of self pity and condemnationn.

On mibba, I called it Wistful thinking, but I think something concerning self-pity fits it much better. Enjoy:

Catch me! I’m slipping, falling—
My efforts to hide myself are futile
Every second I spend with you
Strips away my innocent facade.

I am the eager child listening to your bedtime stories,
Dreaming incessantly of that perfect world you promised me.
I refuse to wake up to the crack and stains of this flawed world;
Since real life is like this, I’d rather be blind than disillusioned.

But where have my dreams led me to?
Down the road of high hopes and expectations,
To the crossroads of disappointment and dejection.
No matter where I look, everyone is happier than me.

I reach for it, but I keep holding myself back.
Why can’t I have it? Why are they so special?
This jealousy, it’s enough to make you go mad with rage,
Wishing to desolate their lives, straight to my Hell.

Explain to me, if you would, the cause for my hideousness.
When did I become so damned horrific? Malicious? Pathetic?
Was I not once that pure-hearted child, waiting for a better world?
Or perhaps even then I was selfish and full of ill intentions.

Listen to me, only talking about myself.
How does the world call this? Self-centered?
I am the main character of this story,
Why should I concern myself in others’ matters?

Catch me! I’m slipping, falling—
It’s so hard to keep up this false front,
And I feel like screaming out the truth.
Prince, where are you to lecture me?