Crow’s Caw

Eking out an existence on the mountain of ice, Casting lots, Time splintering with the throw of dice, Recollecting a life lost, Blinded Snow. Here I am nothing, My shadow shrinks away from the frosty spittle of my enemies. It appears that even former vagabonds will stand up, Rising against the bastard of Winterfell. Heh! I suppose even the sword in the night must gleam sometimes, Ghost trails behind me, On the ghost trails, Made by nightwalkers. Even up here this crow soars alone. I hear of rutting dragons, Ruby flames, And filial evil. I learn of love, In caverns of stalactites and stalagmites. By the godswood of my fathers, I can still feel her tongue smites. I hear her whisper, “You know nothing” © Sena Frost 2015

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