In your house of crows
Where the wicked's eyes
Glow
The smell of evil
Melting the snow
Where the dead are talking
Amongst themselves
They hide in the walls
And crowd the shelves
The hollow outside
Fogging the glass
Calling from the woods
Freezing the grass
But the real pain
Came from the cellar
Where you kept statues
To hold memories together
You were a sculpture
Of madness and love
I didn't realize cause I was so blind
But your house
Was a house of doves
©venomocity
M