I saw the black crow, once,
On a long journey
When finding myself,
His eyes had the sadness
Of the worlds pain,
As his spirit drifted
By the anthem of
His own memories,
When the sky was grey,
With the horror filled calling
Of the sunrise in the morning,
He knew a new day had come,
To swallow his pain and
Feed off of someone new,
Symbolizing a new adventure had  
Come to take away his pride.

Although he never knew much,
He always had the heart
Of a thousand stars,
All clustered on the
Center of the moon, shining
For the entire galaxy
To be astonished by
his powerful spirit.

Even though he felt insignificant
And unimportant, he always
Found a way to fly
Out if the darkness,
And turn into something new,
Drifting along with the lovely
Wind, turning the world
Into what it one day should be.

In the end,
Although many whitenessed
The back crow,
I was fortunate to
See the back crow,
Exactly for what it was,
Spreading its black broken
Wings, reaching for the sky,
With the hope if one day
Gaining the beauty to truly live
In a world that understands
His true nature.