Silhouetted against the dark landscape of what I once knew
                                                                                                             lies a baby
                                                                                                                                 in a basket
                                                                                                                                                      with a crow

I wait
and wait
for the crow to fly
up, up and away from childish cries

but they are shadows;
a disloyal memory of my loving upbringing.

*


                                                                                                      Rooted with fear,
                                                                                                      I reach for the sky.
                                                                                                      My heart wants to stay,
                                                                                                      but my soul wants to fly.
                                                                                                      Just one more big stretch,
                                                                                                      the stars, they are nigh!
                                                                                                      But it's too late, I know,
                                                                                                      for soon,

I will die.