There’s
a conspiracy growing amongst the crows
One’s
cause seems to drown in sorrow
While
another’s destined to fall the sky
There’s
too much suffering in the lips
Quivering
for the touch, that only a key can give
Yet
failed attempts have broken clean,
Leaving
but fragments
Unworthy
of the purse
There’re
shackles and chains
The
kind that bind
Limbs
down
To
circulatory death
There’s
a conspiracy growing amongst the crows
Yet,
is the cause still myth, if truth it tells?
I’ve
always wondered, why some birds climb steps,
When
all they had to do is fly
This piece is another one of those pieces where I took some leftover lines I had scribbled down and put them together. A bit choppy yet I think the metaphor continues through. I was actually shocked I had two scraps about crows, (psst..the second one I changed the first part of the sentence to fit this piece though, originally it read circling do the crows) Anyhow, just an explanation, of sorts
