Migration


They start to fly away
Do I go with them or stay.
A gust of cold winds come my way,

I am cold,
I feel old.
They they tell me to follow
But I feel hollow.

On the inside I'm a strong
On the outside everything takes so long
I whimper, I cry
Because I have such an urge to fly.

I open my wings
They crack and I scream.
Winter starts its mutilation
The others chirp "It's time for Migration!"

It is too late
My wings are dead weight
I can no longer fly
So it's time for me to say goodbye.

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