I’ve found it hard

To make myself frown

The past couple of weeks,

And i think that should be

Something to celebrate .


I’ve ignored it in fear

That acknowledging it,

Would make me frown

Even more.


I left his place

At 5:46am

And i passed 7 black crows,

Forcing me to swerve

As they refused

To get out of the road.


They say black crows

Symbolize death.


It’s been 7 months

Since you talked to me last.


Maybe it’s you

Once again,

That has stopped me

From wallowing in self-pity.


But this time

It’s not because

You’re dangling me

From a thread,

Like some kind of puppet.


But because you are gone.


And now,

You are dead to me