A crow flies outside my window. It watches me, eyes filled with curiosity. I look back. It's as though it can hear my plea. The plea to return as if it knew where. The same boy, the same memory, the same choice. The only place i found comfort for what i was. The boy was apart of that, he made me believe i could do what i put my mind to. However, he knew nothing. Not a sliver or fragment of how it felt to have what i had. To be used as a weapon wherever i went. To be turned down. To be stripped of my humanity. I guess in a way the crow and i understand each other, for we both symbolize death.