Crow

The mind aches.

The body withers.

Old and grey.

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

There was risk, even in darkness. Someone tomorrow would recall seeing a figure outside the cabin late at night. The rain was thick, but the lightning burned enough sky to outline the stranger, lurking long enough to lay a curse on the home.

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

     “I cannot feel my body...”

There was

a poem

here.

It's gone now.

[This post has been removed by the author. If you wish to read it, please contact me directly.]

Through all my life, through all my years,

I craved that which I lacked.

Res(e)t my mind

A(c)rid your fa(r)ce

S(t)ung my heart

   Consider the following; is it the perceived intent of an action, that which constitutes its morality, or its eventual outcome? Murder is immoral, supposedly, while mercy is virtuous. Yet, do these distinct shades of black and white remain unchanged when one mercifully spares an evildoer, instead of murdering him? How does society perceive your actions, when their outcome is dissonant to your intentions?