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.