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Only a week old.
Time to fly.
Poor darling climbs to the end of the branch.
Down she falls.
Even with the soft grass
Her wing breaks.
How uncivilized that noone cares to help.
Breathing deep with eyes full of tears,
Her heart is more broken than her wing.
Unable to move,
Her last breath taken,
Her last tear fallen,
The last thump of her shattered heart.
A cold wind blows,
As the darkness sweeps over the young bird's body.
- by Evylyn Rose |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 10/01/2008 |
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- Title: The Baby Bird
- Artist: Evylyn Rose
- Description: I wrote this some time in 8th grade, so we're looking at 1999 or 2000. It's one of my more depressing ones, and actually made my English teacher cry (I never was good with emotional timing back then). Even though back then I was writing it literally to mean, well, the bird itself and not any sort of metaphors, with age (and some added experiences) I'm really getting to understand why she cried. Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy it. If not, I bet you I have one stashed somewhere that you would. :P
- Date: 10/01/2008
- Tags: baby bird death heartache darkness
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Comments (2 Comments)
- Anika Hansen - 10/02/2008
- touching! I like it! 5/5
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- Dragon_Fears - 10/01/2008
- smile I enjoyed reading this. Thanx!
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