#squeamish
The crows outside my window
Feast on what I have done
And the birds upon the wire
Toss with restless desire
For what I’ve done I’ve locked away
In a cage if prickly bush
And only the smart
Crafty black crows
Can slip to see my mush
Yet last, the crowbrids call
A shrill that warns them all
And ah —alas— in frenzy of fear
The crafty black crow
Seeing no exit clear
Frantics and pushes
All against the spines
And traps itself in
And having no option
All it does is scream
And no one could hear
It’s desperate dying dream of
Freedom
And soon enough, as days passed by
The crows feast again
On mush twice the size
And the birds on the wire
Still violently wish
That they too could pick
If only it wasn’t so sick
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 8:07 PM UTC
Your body tenses
Someone is behind you
Stalking your every move
You feel squeamish
So you look behind you
Quickly
But there is nothing there.
You sigh knowing
That it was something out of
Your sick twisted fantasy
However your mind races
Because you feel something
brush against your throat
You feel the sticky
Liquid slowly slide
From your neck
As you slowly die
You realize
That it what killed you
Wasn't human
It was your paranoia.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC