The Raven

Dark, bloodthirsty eyes,

like a devil staring into a vacant soul.

Eyes as red as a penguin’s cheeks

when it topples over.

The jet-black, chiseled beak on its noggin,

meandering round its jawline,

pecking at my finger.

Oil-stained, feathery wings,

shaping the contours of its skeletal frame,

poised to flap and take flight.

Its claws, razor sharp,

deadly  as an elephant

stomping on you.

Standing as still as water,

always ready to strike.