Now hunting the ravenA Poem by Mark DOf the elite in lover’s I was the surviving
monument But I was never
initiated In the romantic
tradition of being lied to I became a smith of
bloodlust With blind folly and
ruin I brought scars to the
dove And prophesised the
raven But I was not made for
this I spiked on the brakes Vacated my temporary
form After battlefield
slaughter Now mumbling wishful
fantasies Through a broken jaw Out in the wilderness Still nursing the dove Now hunting the raven © 2012 Mark DReviews
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Added on March 9, 2012Last Updated on September 6, 2012 Author
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