Raven king

his wing abroad 

and sharp as a knife 

his face warm and soft 

like a evenings night 

his teeth bony 

and cunning 

his appearance 

shadowlike 

his words 

slurred 

and curled 

around the lips of his listeners 

his eyes sunken 

in from the ship wreck 

from the ocean of his heart 

his wings spacious and wide 

plucked 

his brain slumped 

and drunken off the fairytales 

of he would be the king 

his spell-binding apperances 

conjure 

up vodoo 

of the spirt of the little boys 

conscience 

and 

latchs 

unto 

his 

immoral 

fanatasties 

of 

greed 

his 

mouth 

dripping 

with 

saliva 

craving 

for 

immature

little 

children 

to 

devour 

their 

fairytales 

where to be powerful 

you need to have power