A heavy crow perches on my shoulder,
Slowly gnawing at my fraying dignity.
It screeches in my ear, and I suffer
As it gently teases my swelling frailty.
I walk down a winding path, while the crow speaks
To drown me in its mockery. It watches as I am swallowed
By the jeers flooding from its mouth, as insults spoken wreak
Havoc on my stability. It calls me a stupid coward.
Its claws wipe mud on the yoke of my shirt,
Pressing ever deeper into my aching skin.
I am forced to kneel under its deathly weight—
It was getting heavier with the spreading of its wings.
I face the Earth, and amidst the gloom a puddle lay quietly.
A faint reflection stares at me, its ever widening grin enveloping my view,
With its black feathers ruffling gently in the light breeze, slowly
tears myself in two. My mind and heart, in constant conflict, are irresolute.
My eyes see nothing but darkness. Clouds fill the gray sky,
And thunder shouts in flashes. Rain pours in roaring torrents…
I stand up, but the crow is gone. My shoulder feels not the pain any longer.
Silence—the mere echoes of sorrows long gone are but faintly relayed to the present.
I wonder whether the sun would shine for eternity, for the past is now a stranger.
Yet a tiny black feather remains stuck on my shoe to remind me of a bygone lament.
Written over two years ago; what I thought was a masterpiece is an amateur's meagre work of art.
Dated Feb 28, 2019