This, A Murder Of Crows

Beyond these eyes, wade nightmares yet to come.

My innocence is nothing but a veil of equivocation.

Only whores wear black, and offer red roses at funerals.

This opiate offered me serenity, when I was on my knees.

Once it was so beautiful.

But like a dying lilac; the beauty soon turns black.

I was lonely, but I'm not alone anymore.

My vein rivers of pollution, injected harmony.

I no longer need such a longing kiss from your parched lips.

I can reach the stars from here.

Something I've never been offered before.

And your desire wanes when you have a universe to discover.

And pleasures other to be had.

I'm slowly dying now, a pleasant death.

I can see them coming; three birds flying across the darkened sky,

this...a murder of crows.