Herald of Death

My Romeo, he is no longer here.
This dark and lonely house is filled with plans, ideas, and a love put on hold.
The notes of the song of his voice in my heart.
Will never be sold.

Alas, he is gone.
My Romeo, he is no longer here, off to war on a foreign shore.
I will wait for him.
While he is off to war to settle someone else's score.

What is he if not a simple military errand boy?
Well, he is my love.
He is my life.
He is my under and I am his above.

What am I to him?
I am the moon in his night sky.
I am his wife.
I am the white wings guiding him through the wind so that he may safely fly.

Caw, caw, caw.
I hear him, I hear him in my dreams.
Caw, caw, caw.
I cannot help but hear him over these wretched screams.

Caw, caw, caw.
Where is he? Where is he at?
Caw, caw, caw.
What is that? Where is that sound at?

Outside my wooden framed window?
What is this malicious heart wrenching sound?
Caw, caw, caw.
I can . . . I can hear it all around.

I know what it is.
The crow, the crow.
Caw, caw, caw.
Oh no, oh no, I wish I did not know!

Feathers of onyx black,
herald of the mysterious and occult.
The squawking, . . . the cawing.
Sounding of a vicious assault.

It will not stop!
It will not cease!
Dammit, go away! Go away!
But it continues to caw and squeak and squeak...

I say what I say, to scared to be rude.
Hello, hello my dear old crow,
I exclaimed ever so frightfully
as I inched over to open the wood-framed window.

I wait and I wait.
A hundred dozen seconds later
they begin to congregate
with the speed of an ancient decrepit satyr.

The crows they are a coven of lost and damned souls.
The crows continue congregating outside of the window forming a garden of death.
They are beings unholy.
Doomed to never again breathe another human breath.

In their grotesque perverted union,
the crows in a harmonious malevolent way,
begin to exclaim
they begin to say,

"Your Romeo rests in peace your poor childish fool.
He is a fallen one,
dead and left on the battlefield.
Never again to see the light of the sun."

In a dreadful giggle
the first crow I heard caw
laughed and laughed
as he opened up his malicious lying maw

he began to exclaim,
"Oh, what a shame.
Ha ha, ho ho.
Where fore art thou, Romeo?
Take a gander into my eyes, my dear.
Where maybe, just maybe. You shall see . . .
where your dearest Romeo will be."