The crow is not crow, but a man
who feasts off the sorrows of the lost and pained.
The crow cries to the Father. "Why can't I be happy too?"
He swats at the flies who flit and flutter happily around the stench of the dread.
The crow is but an empty man. He is trying to find his purpose.
He was ment to be an eagle, but thy Father hath beaten his wings to a dark and unforgiving black.
The beating made him scream out in pain. His once sweet Godly voice was now a garbled and
Scratched box.
He now flies around with his burden the size of the world, in hopes to find his white winged dove to help him.
Until then, He is the crow.
The Angel of sorrows.
I have found my white wing dove.
She goes by the name...Lynn.
My sweet little Lily.
I know that if I wouldn't have met her…
My life wouldn't have made it this far…
For she is my strength…
She is my will...
She is my hope and love...
I thank her for saving my life...
She has helped ease my pain and has made me forget my sorrows.
I love her for being herself…
For being there for me when I need someone to talk to…
For saying she loves me…
I love her more than….
My love for her is…
There isn't a single example I could use to show her how much I love her….
Because I know its enough…not even a fraction of the love I have for her can be shown in these words I write…I just hope she knows I pray for her safety and a for a day as beautiful as her…to embrace her with the warmth and love that I could give her…
So my Dear Lynn…
Keep smiling for me….
My sweet and innocent Lily….