I am the lone sparrow that glides through the dead forest,
I am mute but yet I still speak.
A mockingbird that's tune falls on deaf ears.
My misguided youth makes me think I can bring back what once was.
As I bob and weave through the scorched trees I see myself as a great beauty.
I land with the self-satisfaction of my deeds.
Perched malevolently above as I did before .
I cannot see that in my efforts to be what I coveted most,
I am the crow.
Now that you know will you go?