It was a dream, that I was
the Raven,
Black, sleek, forgotten
among the eagles
of this world,
I dreamt my wings
would spread, glide, love
the air between each feather,
but it was just a dream.
Only in the hollows
of the night,
I am the Raven,
so strong
my beak will break you,
Only in the twilight,
a tourist in my own dreams,
do I take on this noble form,
and peck
peck
peck.
In the dusty corners
of each shadow,
I crow, all-black, I crow,
I am Kutkh, I create,
as I blend into the bruised skies.
But it was a dream,
and as dawn finds my mind,
I am no longer a damned soul of Berlin,
or a murdered ghost,
wandering Stockholm,
I am just pecking,
sharply pecking,
at my very own skin.
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