A twisted poem about seeing a young crow outside my home and how it inspired me to write. |
-Flight Of The Crow- by Keaton Foster On a pole Sits what I am Sure is the crow A fledgling of death Unsure what to do next His purpose has not yet been met Easily I have spotted him Long before he sees me I have grown accustomed To seeing such things Of pseudo psychosomatic ends Death and all that it represents Has always been my closest friend I know it quite well because I have been through its hell I have returned time and again Such a crow cannot be for me But certainly someone close Someone that I dare know A person consisting Of a one-sided love He has come for them And there is nothing that Can be done to save them Full of doubt, I scream out Death why have you come Why have you shown yourself Did God above send you Or did hell below force you I cannot bear to lose another I have suffered far too much All that I have ever truly loved is gone All that remains is all that I pretend Leave this place Leave me alone The crow opens his wings wide Flapping them before flight His solid black eyes rotate He lets out a series of caws Each one more frightening than the last He leaps from the pole, taking flight He does not go far or high above Before I can refuse him Another second more He begins to circle just above my head With each mesmerizing pass He flickers his lifeless eyes at me With each circle and cut of the wind He takes a bit of my soul It won’t be long until I am gone… Flight Of The Crow Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012. |