Buried in crow feathers, the Devils in their eyes & he fed me
misanthropy.
I'm disconnected, as I stare into the blood scarlet sky.
Filled with black splatter paint brushed birds.
One by one dove down to peck at my flesh & take a piece of my wings.
One by one dove down to peck at my bones & take a piece of my limbs.
Wings made of corroding, sweet  memories, keep growing back out of misery to feed reality.