I found you on the ground,
Wings outstretched- a broken crow.
Fallen from the darkest skies,
Your heart no longer soars or flies.
The light in your eyes now dulled to a gray,
Power and life abandoned to decay.
Some have said you're a profit of Death,
Hence you followed me here with this knife in my chest.
As I looked down behind you, I began to realize,
I had stumbled upon Death's greatest prize.
I watched as you forced one empty last breath,
Your feet curled tightly against your black breast.
At this sight, I silenced my cries,
As I watched you turn the path towards your final demise.
Vision blurred and I cannot see straight,
It's already too late- for this is our fate.
A heart as cold and dark as your feathers,
For my wings too, are broken and tethered.
I found something then, in both you and me,
We are both Mary's children,
We have both been set free.
YOU ARE READING
Adjectives
PoetryThis is 90% of the poems I have written from the last couple years up to now. I figured since I'm starting here again, I'll just put them into one collection. New works will be published separately. Warning: Some of this is really depressing. P.S...
