On a cold December night
Not a creater in sight
No sound to be heard
Exept for one bird
The crow of a raven
Black as the night
The darkness grew darker
As the bird took flight
Bringing sorrow behind it
As the raven passed over
I felt light as a feather
Until the weight of sorrow
came crashing down against me
I fell from up high
And looked up to the sky
To see no raven
But a beautiful dove
Making everything alright
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts In The Three AM
Poetrydon't judge. it's depressing and is going into my book. Edit: it's not going in a book, but it is a way for me to keep my emotions on a page instead of in my head
