The black feather crow ripping the skin off my arms to I bleed like the syrup coming out of a maple tree my body is cold and blue all over, my heart is a empty shell of what it was, death is now color less, the crow with white eyes begins to talk it had said do you wish heal or do u wish to be at peace as it continues to eat my flesh as everyone walk by my mask is yellow but my heart is white and black and I have become silent.
—Am I innocent