Literature
Ravens
Down by the river, ravens are gathering, Living in their own society, Reaping the spoils of ours, Devouring those which could not adapt, To a world shaped by man. Their faces reminiscent of bygone times of plague, Yet their proud walk betrays an even more ancient heritage. Their cries remind me of a primal age, When their feathery kind ruled supreme, As we do now... Fly, cunning raven, Fly over the heads of those who deem themselves superior, Until they also become roadkill of history, And you may feast again