Poem: The Crow



Good-morrow to thee, fine crow,

Ebony rooster declaring the dawn,

Thy friendly voice I’d gladly know,

But alas, I must sleep, it is barely morn.


Rark. Raaark.


Avian friend by my bedroom close,

Persistent in thy tales of flight,

Perhaps it is early to be so verbose,

I had to work the late shift last night.


Raaaaaark. Raaark.


Do not think me rude if my window I close,

And into my pillow bury my head,

I bid thee good day, please feel free to go,

There’s no need to speak, it’s already been said.




What the—?

Shut up! Shut up!

You’ve got a loud voice—congratulations.

Now shut up, stupid bird!




Are you just going to sit there all day and squawk?

Who are you even talking to, you a lazy son-of-a—

Go away!




I swear to God, if I had a gun right now…




I’d blow that smug head off your shoulders,

Do you hear me?

You’re good for nothing!

What do you even do?




Actually… it’s a pretty nice morning,

I might as well get up,

I think I’ll go for a walk.




This doesn’t change anything between us.





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