Ravens and Poets

There's blood dripping
From the cut on your wing      
Where the cold wire tore it  
As you pulled and screamed      
   
Stop moving, stay still  
Silk feathers everywhere  
Ink drops of red blood  
Scattered on an iron snare      
   
The struggle has stopped        
Free from the searing pain      
The torment and anguish  
Now just a bloodstain

She breaks his heart,
For each night they spend apart,
Feeling the weight of loss and despair,
Sobbing in the pages,
That now seem lost in ages,
The lovely dream seems like a nightmare.
Now he writes in vain,
Sitting and writhing in pain,
Thinking his letters somehow will get to her,
But the ache is so deep,
As each night he loses sleep,
The sight of his beloved is becoming a blur.
He takes all the blame,
As the ink bleeds her name,
Pouring all his emotion on every leaf,
With each tear he drops,
He sighs and briefly stops,
Trying to breathe unable to find relief.
He cries out for mercy,
Feeling drawn and unworthy,
Of the love he has but cannot get back,
So he sits there sleepless,
In total and utter bleakness,
Wide awake as the night goes pitch black.
His poor tortured soul
Has been left out in the cold,
Creeping in the gloom with stark screams,
But he does not care,
As long as her spirit is there,
Weeping in the room of his dark dreams.