grover oz [d9m] donezo

a brief history of grover oz

there once was a boy who no one had claimed
no parent to call him their own
he lived out his days in squalor and haze
before escaping Oz Home

he'd snuck out one night, not much more than eight
and took to the streets of nine
he stole all his food and all of his clothes
for he was all he called mine

many months went by with grover alone
before a ragtag old band
had scooped the boy up, invited him in
and offered to give him a hand

they were the big birds, or that's what they said,
who lived in the back of a bar
the owner had known, and let them sleep there
and even left them her guitar

the bar was run down, infested with rats
the big birds did not mind one bit
grateful for the space, a room with a roof;
much better than a shallow pit

but when the war rose and fighting broke out
the owner had boarded the doors
she took to the field, to fight for freedom
and the big birds' hearts filled with sores

they'd all left too, climbed over the fence
grover followed right along
he was the youngest, and verily so
but he was cherished for his song

they lived in the woods, in blankets in trees
they lived on the ground with the rats
it wasn't until accidentally
they'd started to kill bureaucrats

but once they began they couldn't just stop;
grover led many to them
so tiny a kid, of barely just ten
seemed to the whitecoats invalid

that's why they were shocked when knives slit their throats
when blades stuck into their backs
grover was pleased to do his part
the corpses piled up into stacks

but soon word had spread of kids in the woods
who lured in the capitol troops
and soon luck ran out for all the big birds
it wasn't his death but his group's

their ambush was ambushed, their attack foreseen
and all of his friends fell face first
into the mud and into their blood
and into their own sleeping dirt

through years of fighting the capitolites
they all had collected a lot
like horses and weapons and camaraderie
that from the beginning he sought

he fled on a horse; the others were downed
their blood mixing with their riders
and grover escaped to the sea, to the sea
once more a lonely outsider

it took him a while to regain himself
and return to where he had come
the war had ended, the battles for naught
and he spent his days feeling glum

he lived in the back of the bar all alone
visiting his horse  by the woods
and one day he'd gone to visit that horse
and found himself back in childhood:

alone with no one, his horse had been shot
the same as all of his friends
grover had no one, no one, none
he blamed him for all of their ends

he stayed in the bar, stealing what he could
he bided his time and his life
grover had no one, no one, none
no one but himself and his strife