the bird's death
was
an accident, or was it?
flying
fast
into the glass
window,
shut.
his beak struck first
which
must have
surprised him,
was it love that he
saw,
another blue
sky,
a range of trees
reflected.
he seemed to have
gone
faster the closer
he got,
his wings furiously
beating
to take
him where he'd never
been.
so often, at a cost.
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