Crows and ravens. Black cats and growling dogs.
From the beginning, I loved my omens of darkness.
I think deep down I always knew that a part of me would have to die. If I ever wanted to live.
They called me an angel. So I clipped my own wings, knowing I belonged on this earth.
I approach with quiet footsteps. My dark eyes curtained by a widows veil of black.
I frighten people. A reminder of death that arrives uninvited.
But at home I curl up with my black cat and sing with the crows out my window.
Death omens can be peaceful. If only you don't flinch away.













