itooshallburn

[itooshallburn]

A Man with a Crow Fetish

Tall and proud

Hair full of wonder

Eyes of deep ocean blue

Wheezing through the forest

Greeting creatures

Making friends both old and new

All were there

Except for one

Flying away was all it knew

Falling one day

Pebbles under toe

Yelling for aid from the crew

Screaming murder

Deep colors covered

There was you

Feeling uncertain

As eyes may deceive

Asking aloud: "Do dreams really come true?"

Saying hello

Yet fearing goodbye

You stayed to say “I’ll help you through”

Standing up

You strayed away

The time had come for a sad adieu

Growing fond

A tear rolled down

But who could know, from me or you?

Watching you soar

Feeling empty anew

I realized, all was not true

For you

Were only

A cockatoo

#crows #cockatoo #poetry #rhyme

[itooshallburn]

There's a strange euphoria when the blade makes a mark upon the skin. I've never really known why. Why is there a satisfaction when I see little dots of blood? Why do I itch to make another stroke, again and again? Is it truly just a sickness of the mind? Or is it the only sense of freedom I can find?

I've been feeling out of it these days. Not really knowing my true place in the world. Would it really matter if I were gone? Those around me would scream: Don't go! You're wanted here! But the truth is when I am gone, it will only be a short minute of contemplation before I am gone. Lost to whatever else in the world consumes their thoughts. Could this be my mind tricking me once again? Or am I truly just a small dot somewhere in the universe. Not given a glance, not given a care. Just like a single freckle upon the cheek. Not noticed among the crowd.

Being seen, that's all anyone really needs. Not having to shout that I am here. Having someone know that you are. Not having to explain the thoughts in your head. As you, the one with the brain, knows not what's in it.

Why am I constantly bombarded with these ghosts? Why must I be alone when they speak??

But I am not alone. The blade that gives me freedom is near. It calls to me. I give it a little here and there. I am afraid that soon, it will need more. More than what small morsel I've given it thus far. More than a small taste. Someday it was need a feast. Someday it will eat me whole.

That day, is a day I fear. But it shall come. Just like any other day. Nothing different, nothing special. Just a banquet of sadness. But also a day of rest. The final day and the final rest. As much as I fear, I also welcome. Welcome an end. All things end.

One can only wish for an end.