The raven perched on top of the stone.
It's eyes hazed with thoughts,
As beautiful as the night.
No, it's much more dark.
It does not move, it just observes.
Staring at my eyes. Never blinking.
And yet it stays with me, by my side.
Never once hiding.
I can't stop staring and perhaps I don't want to.
It doesn't make a sound.
But it's silence is beautiful.
O Raven, thank you so,
Keeping me company with someone I used to know.
YOU ARE READING
Misster Normal (A Poetry Collection)
PoetryEveryone's different. But everyone has the same standards to be normal. So... what is exactly being 'normal'? Please note that every persona is different to represent everyone (although some may share things in common). Credits to the artist for the...
