Only a fool plays this game of mind

In all the piles of snow outside

A single movement

The black eye of the raven

Brittle days brief and dark

Blood flows thin

Burgundy to gin

Shallow yellow light

Barely penetrates

Curtains that separate

Reality

Prisoner of this dark world

Garden of wind and death

Pine trees crusted with snow

There is misery out there

Nothing is out there

Let the raven pluck

Out your eye

Is this game almost over

The mind is never satisfied