I am with crows.
I see them watching from my star-crossed lover’s eyes.
My descent into madness is not descent but elevation.
At my window, in the air, on my pillow as I dream.
I walk the streets surrounded by their ever-present loneliness.
They mock me as I mingle among the dead.
The shudder of my heart, miscalculated.
They quiver with gilded tongues.
In this pestilent hour, I rest my hope on darkness.
I am never alone.
I am with crows.
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