Can you hear it? By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
I'm molting,
Moldy feathers fall.
Pink, raw skin envelopes all.
I can hear the murder's distant call,
As the lonely dove sings its song.
I'm melting,
Melding skin andliquid bone,
All that's left is my withered soul,
Reflecting someone I don't know.
I hear the call of the crows,
So close.
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