The crow

The crow lands, ontop of a branch. It beckons to me, I know my short end. It starts to take flight, assuming I will follow it. But I stand firmly, not budging one bit. I cannot defy nature, as nature is a principle that is impossible to beat. But I will cling on, and I won't meet. My own short-comings I caused by one's own hand. Thus, I defy deaths doorstep. I wake up after a falling from a flight of stairs. The crow I have seen crashes into the closed window. It beckons me to follow.