A Short Conversation With Crow.

“I think you forget;
I am ‘Death on Wings.’
Isn’t that your little nickname for me?
I screech your end
over

and over,
until you die
I rip away all that is unnecessary
and when I blind you
it is only so that you can see
clearly.”

“But why does it hurt so much?”

“Because you are still very much alive my Dear,
your tears prove it.”

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3 thoughts on “A Short Conversation With Crow.

  1. I feel you on the pocket book woes, just had to put 4 new tires on my suv because the old ones were dry rotted, and one blew while on the way to my dance class. I also just found out I have to move in January instead of June which threw a big wrench in the plans for Yule.

  2. Regarding your last two poems, yes i guess pain and tears are better than feeling nothing at all. I have a deteriorating neuro condition and the daily struggle to keep going is for what joy and beauty tomorrow may bring.

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