Fly away from death.

To evade the shadows of the raven.
To wound the imminent.
To bash fate above the head with a
barbed bat.
Take flight into a darkness so black...
And twist flapping and screaming until,
Dawn or the distant explosions light the way
to a new beginning.
To strangle the raven as it attempts to peck
out the eyes.
The bony ragged bird that glistens with
lustre when a fresh soul is named and necked.
Though how shall I take flight from the impending.
When I have neither wings nor feathers.