another ushy gushy Poem I made

crows Die
With the last sun follows
whispful days
and make them fly like sparrows
this world is made to hold the cruel
while heroes die every day
and the rain will wash their blood away

watch as lovers lose thier love
or else the loved will lose their lives
then drink the drain and drown the sparrows
I say nothing as they turn to crows
for a Hero dies every day
for a hero has lost their way

and in the death a crow is born
as the rain washes the blood away