The Crow

January 5, 2018
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Sleek shudder of silver glint,
screech of distant joy,
a cry of longing.

A crimson tear leaks
from the sky
as the ceramic moon
shivers into place
amongst dusty stars

The fragile light shatters,
with a gentle touch of sun.
The world becomes aware once more.
Watchful and tense.
The tender feathers of shadow give relief,
as the warmth of others glows
too sharp.

The sudden darkness blinds those wanting eyes,
that slowly turn cold and hard,
like heavy stones of iron.
Those shaking lashes,
that cannot catch
such tears.

This creature
curls up in it’s cape,
of dull night.

Even the blue garbage pail
gleams with more magnificence.

The icy claws,
loosen up their moldy scales,
and the eyes remain open.

The satisfaction of sleeping forever
next to the ones those eyes loved so,
was never to be fulfilled.

Those eyes
that could not cry.
Those silent sobs,
that not a soul,
tried to hear.






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