Rodaina Ibrahim

October, Egypt.
Send Message

The Raven's Crow

As I sit on my desk,
white paper and black pen in hand,
I hear the raven crow.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
I begin bleeding onto the page,
black ink adorning the white page,
my emotions finding a home
in a once blank page.
The words gush out with such force,
my heart beats syncing with my writing pace.

I become the page,
laying all what is hidden inside,
the anger,
the hate,
the torment,
the desires,
in black blood, for all to see,
and for no one to see.
It is for my eyes alone to understand,
but for everyone to judge and admire.

As I return back to my body,
the silence is deafening.
I relax, breathing in the quiet.
Yet the raven begins crowing,
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
55 Total read