05.06.2017

Today while I was walking I saw
Two ripped-off wings
Strewn on the asphalt
Like imperfections in the paving
Being pecked at by sparrows
Valiant with the greater having been
Laid to waste
Taken away by
One of the devouring mouths
Of time.
The saddest part was
The wings were still good
And I wonder why that poor pigeon
Chose to fly to death.
Perhaps quick
He was not quick enough.

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