The bird tried to be like others,
but he failed miserably,
so now their judgement smothers,
him, as their bow constantly,
shots the most wicked arrow,
piecing the wings of the sparrow,
he falls among the flower bud.
from out his hope leaks his blood,
and tears all over the meadow,
chocking out the rose petal,
as the flower dies and it withers,
away, but the bird takes flight,
and flies deep into the moon light,
until the next arrow is again shot,
sending him to his daily resting spot,
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