Thus the Raven Calls

Why do thee bother or do thee quip?

Oh, raven, with feathers black as night,

churn my heart with your calls of death,

speed so swift

with cold determination.

 

Thus the raven calls,

my heart churns for thee,

sick, pale, and wan.

So indisposed are thee.

 

Why thy sorrow skips my heart a beat,

does nothing to make me profound.

Why thy love is arrogance,

and thy heart cares for no one.

 

Why does thee bother?

Or do thee quip?

My heart shatters into a thousand pieces

like a polished looking glass.

I see myself in the shards;

thee are nowhere in sight.

 

Thus the raven calls,

I care for thee not.

My heart no longer churns for thee.

Author's Note

Once again, another poem written that time when I was younger. Back then, this was my attempt at doing that old, archaic style of speaking and writing. Some people who have read it in the past really haven't liked it all that much. xD
I honestly have no idea why I wrote this. I think I just wanted to sound creepy.

Reviews

[Chloe]

It seems more sad and for longing that creepy. Either way, its uniquely depicted and not unpleasant in the slightest. Great write, my dear!

[quinfinn]

"like a polished looking glass, i see myself in the shards" very nice. this is classical and romantic to a fault. excellent write!