Fate of the Forlorn

A broken eggshell in the snow
  By beaks of rime devoured raw
No feather shall it ever show
  Bless those who fall before the thaw

Butterflies in spiders' trappings
  Their dancing stirs the white demesne
Pirouette in silken wrappings
  Bless those who look for love in vain

Moths about the evening candle
  Everybody knows the story
Touch the flame, erupt in scandal
  Bless the charred who've known light's glory

The stricken oak craves sunlight still
  Spraypainted exes on his chest
But loneliness has teeth that kill
    Bless those who fall and spill their nest

Author's Note

Demesne is pronounced 'dəˈmān' and exes on a tree mean it's marked as a hazard for removal.