Trees bare of life, just silhouettes of branches, lost in the gray, pondering whether to stay.
This time of year always leaves me depressed, feelings of inadequacy, I try to keep repressed.
A soft rain starts to fall, adding to my depression's call.
The cry of a raven, heard from a tree, my heart starts to pound, quickly I must flee.
The death of his stare is what I fear, sounds of flapping wings, as he draws near.
Filled with fear, I fall to the ground, a cold chill tells me he is near.
He stands before my eyes, his blackness stares me through, terror cuts to my soul, a hate I never knew.
He transforms to a black shadow, his appearance without a face, so this is what death is, I vanish without a trace.
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