Only a fool plays this game of mind
In all the piles of snow outside
A single movement
The black eye of the raven
Brittle days brief and dark
Blood flows thin
Burgundy to gin
Shallow yellow light
Barely penetrates
Curtains that separate
Reality
Prisoner of this dark world
Garden of wind and death
Pine trees crusted with snow
There is misery out there
Nothing is out there
Let the raven pluck
Out your eye
Is this game almost over
The mind is never satisfied