Black Crow

March 5, 2012
The black crow flies
Across the deep dark purple sky
Hear his sad cry
The lonesomeness before he dies
Black are his wings
His thoughts are shadows and dull things
He soars up high
But his soul is a woe filled sigh
Unlike clean white snow
His eyes show you his darkened woe
He will not be
Like the morning dove whom is free
He’s chained to grief
Because he knows his disbelief
He cannot love
His heart is low while he’s above
The crow swoops low
Forever his days cursed with woe

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