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The crow looked down upon the world. He mocked the broken people as they drifted throughout the crowded streets. He laughed and laughed, making piercing jokes at the world’s expense, until he turned and realized he was just as alone as the worst of them.
By Matt Burke on 04.29.2013
Crows are black. THey have a shiny-ish blue tint and have an irritating noise that they make. Aren’t they supposed to be the bird for death or something? I don’t know. All black, yes? I think so. I am in history class and don’t think that we talk about crows in this class.
By Jessica URL on 04.29.2013
The cow castrated the crow (symbolically); the vicar looked on obliviously, reflecting on the ridiculousness of his profession, longing for uninhibited sex.
By tomcfa on 04.29.2013
i am a crow, he roared in a ballistic outcry
but no one would trust in his words
journeying on to yonder faith
among the ‘other’ birds
no trust was given from his outspread wings
and his eyes glistened with fault
i said “i wish you luck, little crow”
but his journey had come to a hjalt
By Anonynigmus on 04.29.2013
Blackberry kiss. I missed you. I ate birdseeds on the rooftop, hot like the stale days of summer. Chin up, feather on the soft underbelly tickling soft; impatient.
By aria autumn on 04.29.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.