Outside

Sunglasses on his face
A pen in his mouth,
He smirks and starts writing

Grass, shaking in the coolness
Glowing softly in the sunset
It is damp and itchy on my skin

The mountains act as a gateway to the valley
I watch them rise up and cover the sun
Then feel several sorts of sadness

Faint voices echo on the wind,
I listen for their secrets escaping
But can't comprehend the words

I watch when she laughs loudly and
Notice the contradiction in her eyes,
Thinking she's so surreal

I wish I could just forget all of this
It's not how I would like it to be
It is like settling for less than perfection

But I scream at the mountain so mighty
So forgetful at the same time
It doesn't know what I shriek in my head

And That the mosquito inhaling from my arm
Could only fathom where that blood has been,
It's been around like that Hilton in Paris

Jet black crows challenge the azure heights,
They tease as they leave me behind, here, lonesome
What do you call a convocation of crows?