I heard the flutter of a thousand feathers above me,


black birds convened at tomorrow’s end


I saw a ****** of crows encircling the sky


rushing downward into a vortex


Clattering straight for my skull


aiming for divvy morsels that fell off my body.


There’s not much left of me,


their blunt bills perforated most of my skin


Unveiling the skeleton inside this closet,
Unraveling the secrets this mouth can’t


In hoping to shut my heavy eyes to rest


and dig me a bed six feet under


so I can tumble to eternal slumber.


The tears running down my eyes diluted


the colors of my blood stained hands


as I wipe them away


Raindrops, tears,  and blood


doesn’t differ much from each other


For they’re all just liquid substances that symbolizes pain.


I sight these black birds


sitting by the branches of a dead oak tree,


their claws clenched against the aged wood


Bathing in the ashes that fell like snow.


But I’m just lying perfectly still,


my back flat on solid ground


Facing the bleak sun


remaining numb and frozen


This is how I picture death


like sketching a mausoleum.