There's the girl with her tight skinny jeans
a whole in each shoe
Dirt collected from years piling on her white shirt
Her arms slumped as the crow sits upon her shoulder
She doesn't move
She only nodds her heads and listen to the sound of the screeching crow
Hypnotized
absorbing it all in
and when teh crow leaves, she stands up tall and straight with a glare so appealing
Storming through homes of divorced mother's, abandoned children, and jobless father's who scream and cry every night
She grabs them by there shirts and looks them in their eyes and they can only stare back in shock
She tells them to move on and let the past be the past
because leaving in the past only stops you from thinking about the future.