She came as a human,
And turned raven.
Stood by my bedside,
Talons gleaming,
Feathers blue-black,
Black as despair,
Dark as depression,
Glistening wings draped over me,
Pulling me with her three-toed crackled feet,
Deeper and deeper into oblivion.
Every night I awaken,
To the stare of her black beady eyes.
Her beak slightly open,
As Throaty, guttural sounds escape.
She watches me intently, painstakingly with awe,
Often, spittle trickling down the side of her face.
As if she is unaware of all else.
Her only obsession,
Me - poor defenseless me.
I can not bear to see her,
I writhe in agony.
I scream for release,
Please I beg,
Let me be.
I do not need companionship,
Let me be.
Nobody sees her like I do,
My! She does know how to play innocent!
She is such a good caregiver they say,
But only I know who she is,
And what she has come for.
She waits on my soul,
Like waiting for carrion.
A voracious appetite waiting to be appeased,
When will she devour my zest for life?
Plunder my remaining breath?
A ravener of my thoughts and Emotions,
A rapier of every minuscule of matter that’s me.
What dark magic is this?
Fixing her flaming gaze,
Her head cocked to a side,
All night she croaks her hoarse harsh cry.
The corvidae descend,
Filling the room with black,
Heavy, heavy, black,
Such thick heavy black,
I can only smell black,
See black, touch powdery black.
But most of all I feel black.
Her sharp black beak,
Preys into my chest,
And pulls out my shriveled heart.
Now I know who she is,
As I breathe my last,
O’ Devil incarnate.
Author Bio:
Roshini Galappatti is an occasional writer from Sri Lanka. She scribbles poetry and short stories in her spare time (which is sparse) but hopes one day to author a series of children’s fiction.
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