Halls of the Dark Muse

The Crows in My Head

I try to live with these crows inside my head
they fly inside me, they are the voices I hear
and through their black eyes they see a world painted red,
in a shower of feathers of anger with no fear.

I know what it must be to live with me
when we are never alone and I cannot be free,
my crows care only for dead things
sanity carried away upon the back of their wings.