alone like the mutton bird with broken wings,
left behind to rot in winters bitter, piercing cold.
for better or for worse, niether can help you now.
just rotting... crying... rotting... crying...
and one day your wings will heal
and you can venture off again
to meet with all the other brids,
crossing the oceans to once again
be with a community,
but until then you just sit,
listening to nothing,
looking at nothing.
alone
as you rot.
as you rot.
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