A flock of ravens and crows
To mark my death
They flew over me

With the wind's silent breath

Oh beauty is the sky
All grey and bleak
Upon a tree's limb sits the birds of prey
The fallen angel knows I am weak

Dead and blackened
Sickened with the disease of loneliness
Withered and futile
No hope for anything joyous

In a drunken haze, tasting the poison's embrace
Bend the nail and hang the picture of life
Tear it down and reject all that it is

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