Poem from Deviantart

We don't die so easily.
We might loose our heads
but we'll just regrow them.

Even bathed in our own blood
we don't fall.

We learned to keep flying instinctively,
driven by the beats of our hearts and emotions.

We don't fly so easily.
Our hearts keep tearing our heads apart,
every time we regrew them.

Shortly after the blood dried of
we will bleed again.

Falling is nothing we know how to do
Slowing down not our virtue either.

This is us, the blood birds,
always flying, always bleeding.
not really dying but not quite living either.