She lay on the ground, dirt collecting on her bones and in her hair. Feathers and twigs scatter around her as the raven builds its nest. A gentle breeze stirs up leaves around her. It never served her to have a heart of gold.
"Dying" The word little Raven knew as falling; But little Raven was trying; Little Raven's mind keeps denying; But little Raven's heart wants to survive and keeps fighting. Will little Raven die; Or choose to live and fly?
As little Raven is falling; Memories keeps reminiscing. The clock's hands are turning back. The past's time is coming back. Flock of ravens flying through woods; But that memory isn't that good. Little Raven was just watching them flying; Over a broken little window. Imagining to be free from dying, And could fly freely over the rainbow.
There is a violent madness that hides inside all of us, some oppress the chaos, others live in denial. Once in a blood moon hidden in a dark room vibrations of bedlam a paracosm of two. For the world that we see through a hidden marquee, a putrid stream for the mentally ill. Yet with no hesitation, a dark star pulsating you plunge into the void then pull me through. Fret not for each thought gives birth to brilliance, as we stir the cauldron of the sacred brew. Blood and water, son and daughter, resilient to the universe we devour and consume.
you say that you, when something happens, choose fight over flight. yet. whenever I'm in trouble or sad or panicking or numb or angry or bloodied or bruised you run, you freak out, you leave, you vanish. you fly away, raven. so perching myself on this boney finger of Death's I, the crow, will caw until you return "to protect."
Trapped in snow, My carriage enthralled. Only sound I hear, the ravens call. The wolves in the distance, Their cries do tease. Carried on the bite of winters breeze. The trek is hopeless, No end in sight. I shudder fiercely in limitless night. No fire to warm. No stars to light. Dawn approaches through snow ladden trees. I cannot help but feel at ease. Stopped to rest, my body weary. Sleep does come, so dark and dreary. My body numb. No tears to cry. Frozen dead is where I lie. Knawed upon by bear and bird, By wolf and shrew. Consumed by beasts just passing through. Bones lay picked clean, Dressed by morning dew. Fragmented, scattered, is where I remain. Haunted eternally by the ravens refrain.