A Bird in the Hand

He believed
A bird in the hand
Was worth two in the bush�

Until he captured it

And watched the transformation

Eyes, once bright,
Staring in glassy terror
Its beautiful song
Turning to panicked cries of fear
Its graceful flight;
Forgotten for frantic struggle

Then, mortally impaled upon
The dagger of his own selfishness,
He finally understood�

Sometimes, possession is nine-tenths

Of Destruction�


LilGray
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