Better Life

October 9, 2008
In the morning I sit, and look up at the sky.
I watch all the birds start to sing and to fly.
They are flying to the South,
And migrating away.
In between the trees that sway.
Flying aways from the awful fray.

They are flying away from their trouble and strife,
Taking flight in hopes of a better life.
They fly away from the violent rife.
Yes, they are searching for better life.

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