Crows With Pure Intentions

Guilty you've been found,
Battered you were,
and caged you are.

Loose dangling limbs
Clinging to the rusted metal of your enclosure.
Eyes pried open by force,
refusing to accept defeat.
Restraining from letting them fall to the distance
between you and the ground.

Cackles vibrate above you
from the crow perched in mock,
Or perhaps in witness
of your unjustified suffering.
Bellows of its laughter
could be cries of its sorrow.

As the moon ascends to its peak
you lose sight of its casted shadow.
Blindness.
The foul's clamor intensifies.

When your life recedes
this companion will act on intimacy.
And sate its desire
to rid you of your amaurotic eyes.
These useless eyes.
To taste you.

Comfort settles within you
for this inauspicious,
yet intrinsic bond you share.