I used to love crows;
     I loved the way their glossy feathers
glittered in the daylight,
The way their eyes could
freeze a person's thoughts.

I used to love crows;
I'd read about their cunning ways
and how they harbour revenge -
I admired their loyalty to those
other crows that had been wronged by humans.

I was bewitched by them and their
croaky song,
A melody that almost foreshadowed the
downfall of the cursed.

I used to love crows,
But now I despise them.

If I could pluck each feather
off their haunted bodies I would,
Either to bring back what I've lost
Or just for the sheer pleasure of their pain.

Perhaps one day I will grow to
love them again.
But until that day,
   May God watch over the crows I cross.