Crows Fly Above Me

In this world the crows never  fly gently,
they are carried by the winds that take them.
They try to fly to you, in hopes of pristine beauty
but instead they come to rest with me.
Ice falls from their beautiful wings; they look to you,
they watch you turn away.  Can't you see their broken wings?
I want those birds to kill me, pick me apart bone by bone;
crows will take my sight and I'll see what I've become.
I have never seen an animal cry, like those birds;
they roost broken-hearted, dorment in their only quest.
I want them to desire me, like they desire you.
The winds are too strong; they'll never want me,
their hearts belong to you and so they plainly speak.
Their black tounges curl as they try to fly to you;
one by one they fall upon me; they fall into a pristine wasteland.
They fall beside me and they don't even know that I'm here.

          DannYetman

http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/