The Crow & The Scarecrow

 

He inspired in me 

  a tied and twisted tongue 

 synapses fusing to understand his double-speak 

Suppression of my own, 

  so that I could make sense of the illusions he'd paint me

Where he made a home that would work for me to love 

     Him.

What is false however always collapses in on itself. 

It was a mirage of pretenses that started to catch up 

and no amount of tall-telling could erase what was left in the impact; 

   The imprint. 

Experiences and words, 

  Messes of inactions, 

Toxic buildup, Spiritual Depravity 

It was a force indeed. 

One I ran from for a very long time: 

  Over 

    and over, 

       Throughout our History. 

He is, indeed a force of nature. 

 A scare-crow. 

A Pumpkin King.

A force that stirs trouble, 

For trouble he has chosen. 

As he tempers now, 

  I see the ruse.

It will not be long, 

Before yet once more, 

 He is unhinged from his post. 

 Alive again 

 and mimicking the cackling 

   Of me and my kin. 

Now however, 

  We have learned to speak. 

   We perch between worlds. 

and the scarecrow is looking, 

  Mighty easy to peck apart. 

Not that I should or would, 

  But he tries me, 

   As I him. 

Without the crow, why for would he exist?? 

  So he lots my stay, 

   But scares anyway, 

For that is the nature between us, 

  That must exist. 

and it is a nature, we also, 

         Resist.