You sit there in wait
As if a planned date
Of which, I do not know
Why are you staring little crow?
You sit and watch beating hearts
'Til the harvest starts
I almost tune out the evil laugh
That you bellow from deep within your wrath
And almost forget where you reside
That is, within me, deep inside
Your jar of souls collected slowly
You take your time being unholy
You go into hibernation away from the watchful cavists
You do not mind though, for winters calm brings great Spring harvests
You feast and feast devouring bit by bit
You take piece by piece encouraging me to submit
Fighting the pain,
Fighting in vein...
Tearing me down, nonstop
As if I your crop
Little crow caws in joyous evil song
Release me from your grasp, I beg all night long
You come and go
And reap what I sow
Taking my strength and will to fight
Chomping down into flesh throughout the night
Released once more, you hide away again
I almost forget, but you have written it in permanent pen
You wrote "Never forget, sweet child, I am you keeper.
The Soul Reaper."
Cavist: A hawk which is of proper age and training to be carried on the hand; a hawk in its first year.
A symbol of strength and protection for me.
— The End —