I'm Gone

I hear their incessant cawing. They've mocked me with their soot plummage and crimson eyes for too long.

They sit atop tombstones, shrieking of the damned. I'm on their list of time gone by and I rest in their song. 

I bury myself thirty feet down and stuff my ears with dirt. I refuse to believe I'm gone. 

I carry my own bones in a blanket my mother gave me to bed each twilight. I rise at dawn to dig again.

I refuse to believe I'm gon

Reviews

[Lovecraft]

Again, the only problem you really have to work on is the length. I sense quite a bit of potential in some of your poetry but you need to expand this. There are also one or two grammatical errors but it's not a big deal at all.