I sit in a small room
awakened from a daze
by repercussion of glass
hit by a small bird drawn
by the splendorous light
and promised haven
of illuminated
bulbs wrapped around plastic
fallacies of branches
and I investigate.
My curiosity
is aroused by tiny
feathers encasing this
feeble animal who knows
nothing but ultimate
freedom. And her eyes look
of trepidation, or
ecstasy, I am too
young to know the difference
I take her in and make
her mine. It’s too early
to know whether she lives
or dies.
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