Of Broken Wings and Black-Feathered Cries

I await for my soul to transcend your mundane filth and inherited ignorance, as I leave this my corpse for your fangs to shred and your hungry lustful eyes to devour all which does not last.

Tired counting the seconds, tired watching them fly away as the halo wanes, tired wasting minutes, hours, days and years waiting for nothing, waiting for no one; no one but a phoenix, bathed in darkness, shining with a blackness of a thousand crows, for she is my raven, for she is the end for which I yearn.

I cling to your shadow, I scream your martyred name; Black Bird, guardian of the night, keeper of the keys to my insane mind, don’t leave this hawk blindly drifting southwards, don’t fly before the dawn takes me away, don’t burn until I burn, don’t fall unless I fall, don’t die before I do.

H.Q.
02:05
Sun. 29/7/2012

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~ by H.Q. on 29 July 2012.

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