norman rockwell

010206
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black stork

Our lives were once flocked together
with no one to separate us.
But as my wings were slowly shaded
by green of color,
it enraged your beating core
and turned your feathers black,
dark like the shadows that watches over us.
However, you were not there to watch,
but to kill like every mother bird do for their chicks.
The only difference was you did it to me, your child.
In pure anger, you pecked poison into my youthful soul
and witnessed as I weakened and crumbled.
I crawled and reached for your hand.
It was colder than the snowy breeze during winter.
There, I begged you to listen,
to hear my torment,
to see my suffering,
yet your ears we're oblivious,
and your eyes we're sightless.
And so I died
and I apologize,
but I blame my demise,
not on myself
but on you, mother.
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