The crow girl sits on the balcony
And coos her voice in a rattling song.
Her feathers lay low, her neck hunched,
And her being the midnight’s songbird.
Twisted wings like twigs laying along the railing,
Killing the night-walkers in an enemy’s
Voyage into the deep sanctuary that is her home.
Tethered strings; there is nothing more beautiful
As they lay along the metal guard
And loosely lean with the wind.
Deep blue and dainty shreds of a fine lady’s dress
That’s seams have fallen and followed behind her.
A new ghostly member of the nighttime parade.
A darkness hangs over the city
But nothing darker than the exasperated
Flame in the grow girl’s eyes. Don’t blink.
Forget her mark and carry yourself towards day.
Nothing will be new tomorrow, everything is laid
Before you today. Grasp your own midnight
And let it sing. It will thank you and your
True side will finally be free.
You can’t say you know her
If you have only used your eyes,
For her radiant beauty is nothing
Compared to what she hides.
If you ever get the chance,
Soak into her skin,
But never get too close
To the darkness she holds within.
Her spine is cracked and damaged,
Fingers weak and strained,
Blood dripping from the cuts
Soaking the flourished plain.
She may looks like a valley,
Complete, beautiful, lush.
But inside she different;
She’s worn down, yet tough.