Annette lays still upon her velvet sheets
The swaying of the door creeks ever so soft
And she straightens up in her sunken loft
Beady eyes alert, she never sleeps.

Winds chant a haunting melody, their whispers grow
Cold and alone, she hugs herself close
Surrounded by blood kissed notes
Perched on her window is a little black crow

She slowly climbs from her bed chamber
and sits beside her new friend's nest
Her delicate finger glides across its breast
The pathedic creature senses no danger

And when she leans in, to give crow a kiss
He bites her lip and black blood she bleeds
She smiles calmly, in a crazed sense of glee
Crow's feet are clenched into frustrated fists

She feels no more pain.

 
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