Crow

Crow

There’s a crow that lives in my chest

He’s dark and dense, malevolent

Pulling at my heart with his black beak

Tearing at it

Piece by piece by piece he shreds it

Gulps down each morsel

Trying to satiate his appetite

As he waits for the last light to leave me

And when it does his hoarse voice will raise

In coarse triumph

Then he will stretch

Spreading his wings wide

Drop from an airless sky

And all will turn to ash

As he feasts on hope’s corpse