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The Raven
Though nigh is the night,
The raven sits his perch.
Waiting for the deadened man to stumble.
Waiting, for his chance to feast.
He eats the rotting corpse,
Eating the child that once was.
Eating the flesh, the blood,
The broken heart.
For nigh is the shadow,
For nigh is the night.
Moon so bright in the deadened night,
The shadows seek the cover of day.
Waiting, waiting.
Perched back on it's deadened branch.
The raven sits and waits, waiting for more.
Forever waiting.
Nevermore.
its really a gooood poem...love to read it and i went through your other poems and inspired alot...and will be doing comments on other tooo...hope you go through my poems to be a good poetess friend ...