The Crow

I recall a time,
When my hands were stained black as coal,
&I decided that birds could fly.
I took my word&swore it to oath.
Oath to beauty in the sky.
&in this beauty, I swore my heart&soul.
I crafted&twined, created my mind.
I couldn't believe my eyes when the bird was a Crow.
Dazed&Shocked, all I did was gawk.
&find myself amazed,
For, if this were my dream,&a dream come true 'twas.
I'd find myself awake.
Frozen&stagnant from part of me in feather&wing.
I sat&saw myself for the first time: A pursuer of saints,
A believer of heroes, once cynically true.
Now finding it all empty tales, the Crow had me see,
Hour&Hour I stared at the beast.
Lying unconscious, slumbering so.
This, was my hope.
&to taint the silence I yell:
"Nay! Fore calling me a dreamer is false!
If tales were real, surely it'd be beautiful.
Yet, in lands, why do we bother to step,
When dreams&landmines acquaintance well?"
At my last line, breath heaving high,
Before me lie an astonishing site!
The Crow, it moved!
Not once, but twice.
In shuffles&twitches he rose in spite,
Of all my insults. He stood with pride.
His feathers shone,&he raised through my words.
He was a part of me.
His aura, it screamed.
"We fly in reverse,We born in a hearse.
If all were a gift,We could find a curse.
We are together,
For I am your dream,
Your arms are my feathers.
But, you are not me
You lost your strive,
&I found mine.
So if you will be grieving,Creator set me free,
If you choose to quit, I shall persist&percieve."
I couldn't find anyother way to bleed, but through my heart.
His scold was the deepest of all.
He raised his wings, and whispered his dream.
"I choose not to adore
Ones like you who believe nevermore.
If I am to fall from the sky as death.
I'll think I've achieved, When I die,
remember your dream soared."