This bird flew a world of rejection,
No one else ever came to his protection,
- he had no mates to give him affection.
They say birds of a kind flock together,
To care and help each other forever,
- chances like this floated away like a feather.
He was neither stunning dove nor graceful swan,
Merely a tiny insignificant sparrow,
- who was forgotten and never drawn upon.
Flying alone in a world of pain,
Searching for help and dismissing fate,
- only to be filled with anger again.
“Oh how could you do this to me”,
He’d hiss and screech,
- forgetting that this was how it was meant to be.
“Oh how could you do this”,
He’d whisper amiss.
- what was the meaning of this terrible bliss?
This bird flew a world of rejection,
He was dead in this body of protection,
- This. Bird. Was. You. -
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