(Freewrite)

Upon velvet black feathers, the crows descend from the grey sky and steal their perch atop the top of telephone poles. White glints shine on their smooth bodies underneath the looming sky.
A bird sits up in its perch and flaps its wings. Feathers flutter above the black earth, fall down and blow back up from a warm breeze.
The bird caws.
The feather drifts coolly down onto a leather shoulder. The shoulder shrugs it off, and a warm breeze blows it away.
Distance brings travel. A car gallops down the road with one hundred, twenty five horses locked in a claustrophobe's nightmare. The little yellow thing races past into the future, and sends dust flying into the leather shoulder.
The leather shoulder shrugs, and the rest of the body gets up. It turns its head to the endless fields of wasted time and effort (a manufacturing plant) and lowers its eyebrows.
With a big breath of air, it lets out a cool gust, "Can't anybody die on the side of the road in peace anymore!?"
The factory repeats the cool gust, mocking the body and tormenting the brain.
The body looks through the crow feathers on the ground, and growls.
"What? Can't give me anything sharp enough to stab my throat with? Fucking nature!"
The body lays back on the ground.
"Gotta do this the hard way... Fuck..."
The body puts its small hands around its neck, and squeezes.
"Fuck... this... life..."

A crow flaps its wings, and a feather flutters down.
This is the repetition of a daily life, the day-to-day drama of waking up and hating yourself, only to be covered and surrounded by crow's feathers that are beautiful and perfect, but fragile so when you try to touch them they will break, be imperfect, and not sharp enough to aid in your escape from this hell.
This is the repetition of the human race as western societal norms view it.

Another crow descends from the grey sky on the wings of black velvet, stealing a perch atop the top of a telephone pole; opens its wings, and lets its feathers fall.