I had a crow, once.
He was always happy, never minded what the others.
Flowing down and up the trees ,like a free water-drop .
Caw,caw,caw .
Cracked like fire flowers into your brain.
When I was cooking, 'Put the musturd in.'he said, 'Loads and more, that will be more wonderful and spicy.'
When I was picking up the cigarette butt the old man threw away, the one walked in front of me 'Let it go, it will burn a fire.It's his fault not yours.'Looking at my look, he scilenced a while and flew onto the old guy's shoulder and cursed him.
When I was drawing, 'Too much color, too little dark, that's not you, that's not me.'
When I was learning dances,'Be happy, be free, like a bird , like me, look at me.'He then hopped from one branch to another, some sort of a falling leaf, some sort of a spirit of the tree .Never did the normal way other birds would do, sliding over the sky which he had given the defination.
One day, he flew away, disappearing in a sudden unexpected way.Then they told me 'You've grown up finally.''I'm so glad' they smiled and prounded of another me.
But sometimes I miss the crow the only birdie which used to belong to me. Which messed everything but I was both angry and pleased to be with.
I know now he is my cold humour, my bad taste, some uncontrolled but controlled temper, something that I want to do but now don't.
I put a trashy cave into the tree, hoping one day he might come, perch on the top of a twig and spit to me.He may kick the net like a dung stone like the usual way he did long long ago.
'Hey, you know why you fed up with me?
cuz you sometimes are a coward.'
'Hey, you know why I like you?
A-ha, easy, you are sometimes full of nuts.'
The crow, once I had.
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