The Ravens Gather For a Death
The
Ravens gather for a death
Cold
wind hits back
Black
silhouettes of darkness
Fly
in lack.
One
of those death parties,
You
know?
Where
the trees rustle,
And
winds blow.
Almost
like a memorial
To
celebrate life
In
a way,
In
terms of strife.
They
join together
Gather
round
Eye
gawkingly
Fly
without sound.
Cold-fingered
Dawn
Arises
from afar,
The
last time this corpse
Will
see her star.
I
watch
From
afar off.
Look
at their ritual,
Hear
their scoff.
They
call me,
They
entice
They
beckon thither,
Partake!
In our rotting sacrifice.
One
of those death parties,
You
know?
Far
away,
In
the bloodied snow.
I
advance further,
Closer
to the Feast.
A
choice meal, delicacy,
Enjoyed
by the Least.
The
Ravens gather for a death,
Something
to love,
Flying
up up high
On
the wings of a dove.
One
of those death parties,
You
see?
One
those,
All
full of Glee.
Almost
like a memorial
Together
to eat
Celebrate
the life
Of
our favourite meat.
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