A reign of the sky,
Ink-stained feathers—
Scavenger of the lost,
Willing to die.

Blends with the ******,
Identical to all.
Unfurls, beats harder—
The crow begins to fall.

A shadow chasing light,
His nest embraced another—
Not beneath the ink-ish night,
But one that rose from dead anther.

Yet the curse of a crow,
Bearer of omens, fell again.
This time, he couldn't throw—
The wound cut deeper,
The pain remained.

His lullaby, abuse—
His voice, a crash.
Cries rang through the void,
Silencing the bones, thrashed.