Casting shame upon the likes of men who dare utter messages ripe with misdeeds
A clothed raven sits, scowling eyes of pitch, waiting for the misstep
Of anyone that shouts awry of friendliness
Tin monocle rests low and left beneath a plain bowler hat, trademark the old feathered hack
Sight set on weeding the perceived idiocy out of the deceivingly deep pool
A regular caw as he points out the fool
YOU ARE READING
While I was Away
PoetryThe poetry I wrote while trying a different platform. Credit to the OG publishing site on the cover, #Poemia.
