A Single Crow

a poem of the final thoughts of a mans life

Thump, thump, thump
a voice that is coming from the door.
Thump, thump, thump
can't you hear the voices in the storm.
Reaching over, a mind hiding in the dark.
From the shadows moving as an ark.
The rain falling fear sly in the cold frosted air.
Drip, drip, drip, is moving without a care.
This is what has entered the mind
through the safety that was left behind.
The screams of a crow that will never adore.
Thump, thump, thump
this pounding heard upon the door.
Could there be something more?
Not knowing what has been said
to bother what has been lied dead.
Thump, thump, thump
over and over with nothing done.
With this crow that has a deafly moan.
Luring a swarm like a plague in the wind,
with this pain that never ends.
For they since what no one knows.
If it wasn't for the eyes of the crows.
With a sent of death that reaks the air.
Is it something that one should dare.
Driving a mans mind to go over the edge,
its all in the head of a man that once bleed.
Creating things that where never there.
No one said it had to be fair.
That all started with a single crow.
Like the sunrise of a new day.
That this life has faded away.
Of a heart full of fear,
could it have been so dear.
To hear the screams of all the dead.
An anger that could never be fed.
It is not something that could have been found,
that this house fell crumbling to the ground.