Raving, the Raven with talons at the neck,
Swooning to the ground with tears unspent,
Volatile in nature, impending fast but not lent
She harkens and folds
As the Crimson color rolls
Towards the dastardly role
Woe is not she, woe to he who’s cold.
To say just to say even though it’s not meant
Exiled from the hearth, hated since birth.
Pen in hand,
saying to the souls all dues to circumspect
But, to be the many rings on a tree, it’s unspoken to give respect.
Thus, the exile began.
Immersed in water, drowning yet afloat
A philosophers dream, the envy of the goat.
Sunken until the tea cup rings,
You are now complicit in Every Single Thing.
Oh,now the pen won’t stop to breath
A heaviness in beat, it creeps up her skirt only smelling death. It goes again with breath.
Exiled in a prison only the reflection sees its mirth
Expired like the forgotten, soon after birth
This is my pen, and it won’t be stilled
There’s targets over yonder, plus I’m strong willed.
Thus, the exile continues
Until next time!
Love all my readers
Xo Z Jay.