It was then I heard that awful caw
From a bird of black and sharp of claw.
In the sun his feathers do sinisterly shine,
While perched atop that ivy vine.
Today I'll be sure to watch my step,
As all who look upon him can never forget
The ill omens of which he does speak,
When he cackles though that lacquered beak.
YOU ARE READING
Behind the Silence
ŞiirPoetry portraying the things I never say, the pain of depression and other unspoken shadows in my mind. Writing is my way of exploring and coping with a lot of internal issues and I like the way poetry is able to paint pictures of emotion.
