Blank page, a self imposed curse
Scrawling thoughts, to write for what?
Crow lands, searching in the dirt with the stare
Its black eyes, something writhing
Reared neck and horrible laugh
Stones turn, veering into vision
What doesn't blink can't dream
It wants my eyes to see
Black beak weapon to pierce
Delirium scribbles thoughts onto page
Something's writhing. Writhe!
Wings spread a plague, doctor
It stabs towards my view
It wants my eyes to see this
Hands alone fail to counter-attack
My pen, this make shift dagger
Thrust under the wing
Blood drips onto my page
Random splatters onto white
Falling back
Reared back soaked in red
Black bird stumbling through air
Piece of flesh in my eye
What's not mine doesn't hurt
With clenched eyes I pull
Bit by bit it falls...
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