There once was a bat cut out of the very same cloth
As the star-strewn sky
So you’d see a section of midnight
Flap its wings as it flew by
The bat was black as tar
And twice as thick as a damaged mind
It had three stars: one on each wing
And one on its behind
It did not echolocate
But produced a subtle drone
The kind of hollow humming
Of a man who lives alone
Not many people saw it
As it swept through trees at night
But those who did reported
That the world will be all right.
