The rope was sturdy, stout and thick
the room was quiet and still
Outside, it drizzled, and so a crow
flew to his window sill

The crow peered through the grimy glass
and saw him lying still
as if he'd frozen, fixed in time
devoid of strength or will

He saw the crow but turned his face
away, as some folk do
at the sight of faintest hint of life
for life is what they rue

The boy sat up; his face still blank
he seemed so calm and cold
He looked at a picture on his desk;
perhaps a friend of old?

Perhaps he viewed it every morn
but who would seem to care?
Perhaps it gave him strength to live
perhaps she's no more there

And if the crow could comprehend
what his beady eyes perceived
Perhaps he would have shed a tear
at what the boy conceived

For in moments he would take the rope;
the rope that's stout and thick
And tie an end into a noose
as the clock would cease to tick

The rope, suspended high enough,
the boy stood on a chair
He wore the noose around his neck;
like a necklace of despair

In a moment, all that's good will die
as it does each dreadful night
No one would mourn him, but the clouds
will rain the tears of plight

The boy took one last look of shame
one glance of deep regret
At the world he hated with disdain
at the night; so cold and wet

His gaze then fell upon the crow
who watched him all this while
His lifeless face for a moment gleamed
and almost cracked a smile

He kicked the chair away from him
and felt his feet in air
the noose tightened around his neck
that necklace of despair

His body thrashed about in air
and quickly losing breath,
he saw a flash of light erupt:
the messenger of death

The tickings of his heart would cease,
as did the hands of clock
The rope - the serpant - squeezed his throat
and left him stiff as rock

On the sill, the crow let out a cry
I wonder what it meant
I wonder if he sensed the gloom,
or heard the sky's lament

And I wonder what the boy endured
in an age so ripe and fresh,
to wish for death and hate his life
that dwelled encased in flesh

The rain now stopped, the sky will clear
to await the light of day
And the only witness to a lonely departure,
the crow: he flew away