Untitled Author Poems

A black crow perches itself on the corner
A corner where it isn't bothered
Where the winds of the home don't blow
Where the home slowly creeks and cries
...

I remember the way I sat on that bed.
Those words combined my head
You said it wasn't me
You said there was no other girl
...

The feeling of love is something magical
No, not true
Magic is made up, it is a lie
Love isn't a lie, it's a feeling of freedom inside a person
...