The Hunting Raven

The raven changed its direction, like clockwork, in every instance my eye became conscious, of its existence, and a day came when the raven stared at me, pointed its pupil directly at me.

Its iris spoke to me, foretelling songs of death. Afraid i buried them 2 layers deep within my psychosis, but still, its faint cries of squawking escape through pores of my insecurities,

One day the raven will slay me but not today, not today, not today, not today i prayed. The power of words taught to me by beings who live within thunder, vibrating like sonar, the words keep the raven at bay.

The thunders never leave me alone for long, they come to me, filling me with words, preparing me for a future to know without knowing. So i can be like them, but why do they invest so much stock in me, why cant they all leave me be

I don’t want to inherit this prophecy




Am i wrong?...Am i?..And the church said

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