Murder of Crows



Past the valley of death where the garden grows,

Have you ever laid eyes on a murder of crows?

From the skies they scavenge, in the trees they wait,

To consume you entirely and seal your fate.



Mercy and compassion they have but naught,

For they are optimally pleased when death is brought.

These beasts bask in the pits of Hell’s deepest fires,

<span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Feared even by Satan, feeding only their desires.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">When out late at night, under the moon,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Their sight prophesizes that death will be soon.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">See them you will, but try as you might,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">You cannot escape once within their sight.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">They will circle in flight above where you loom,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Messengers of evil, heralds of doom.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">The beasts descending, once on nigh,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Will release their detestable cry.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">They will peck at from your head, all the way down to your toes,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">They will peck out your eyes, your ears and your nose.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Once your vision is gone and you begin to bleed,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">The birds will hasten in sating their need.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Beaks as sharp as razor blades,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Will tear your skin through blood of many shades.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">You intestines, bunched, will begin to pour,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">But as painful as it seems, there is still more.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">They’ll fly away with pieces of your heart,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">As they finish tearing your remains apart.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Too dead to feel, you’ll begin to realize,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">That they have no heart, only cold eyes.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">As the last of your body rots, and the midnight bells toll,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">They will unanimously destroy your soul.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Left as a shell, you can only roam,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Watching life go by, in its spirited loam.

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<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Though you’ve been shackled, and now are in despair,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">You can no longer warn those who dare,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">To go past the valley of death, where the garden grows,

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"">Where they might stumble upon a murder of crows.