Early dawn before the stretch of the sun..
Prior the morning's first yawn..
An old raven, bearer of a bad omen..
Perched upon the withered tree..
It sits mysteriously unruffled
By the breeze..
Head tiled down, beak pointing towards me..
"DEATH" it said..
And again "DEATH IT'S"..
Filled with dread, I raise my head..
My bones rattling to the eerie tone..
"What you speak of is the truth well known..
Fools are those who do not atone..
For it's the ultimate truth..
Inevitable, very well known.."
"I've built the coffin, dug the grave..
Should death come in silent or in rave..
I am prepared.."
"Brave! Very brave" the old raven said..
"But it is not you who I've come to take..
who is more dearer to you than your damned soul..
More precious than all the shiny rocks and glittery gold."
"For I know how to break a man who doesn't fear..
Take away from him what he most reveres."
"And in your case my dear... it's;...