Black Ink

By Caden Davis

Today, I saw a murder outside my door—

It left me in amazement—

I’ve seen this Black ink before—

In its irregular placement.

Perched in Skeleton-like trees—

Scavenging for the next treat—

An omen of Darkness that grieves—

Hidden in the Shadow of the street.

Cawing in the distance—

Sending Shivers down your spine—

Gathering in a flutter of Coexistence—

Scratching and tapping hard to define.

Like an ant Social in culture—

Clever in their enterprise—

Fierce as a Vulture—

They spell your Demise.