Dying Innocence
A young crow carries them-
selves meticulously, screening
their surroundings. Too wary
to engage with others, but
always so observant.
A golden jewel shines in a
parking lot corner. Tempting
the young crow’s eyes. Their
bill clutches on, fragile by
nature, it breaks.
Glass shards pierces their
tongue, blood cascades on-
to the concrete as the jewel
dismantles. Remnants of a
once pretty rock remain.
Lackluster caws transcends to
inconspicuous woes through
menacing thunder circulating
the floaters, ignoring their
cries.
Drizzles of rain deafening
continuous yelp, a dash of
salt soaking their insides,
their shadow scatters
far away.
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