The Crow

November 14, 2008
By
Once upon a midnight sky,
A crow enjoys its late-night fly.
It feathers dark as a black rose bud,
Its beak tarnished red with blood.
With blood.
With blood.
With blood.

Earlier that fearful night,
A man and this crow had a fight.
The crow dispatched this man with scud,
And it ate his flesh with blood.
With blood.
With blood.
With blood.

Legend says this killer crow,
Developed a taste for men.
It kills once every fortnight,
Wait until it strikes again.
Again
Again
and again.





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