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Blue Bird

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A bird with delicate aqua wings and a hungry beak,
Powers through air as a knife to hot butter,

The freest form of nature,
He is bound by no limits

His home, the heavens
The endless blue

Swooping and diving, a traipse artist
True master of the skies

King of everything-
And nothingness

Commander of himself
And only him self

Alone he glides alone
No protection

No pack to call his own
His calls dance in the wind; teasingly carry in to the distance-never to be heard

A bird with delicate aqua wings and a hungry beak,
Powers through the air as a knife to hot butter

A hunter, with sweat trading down his pale face
Proudly marches on a parade with only himself

The oldest form of man
A ruthless killer

Beady eyes scan the pure blue
His grip adjusts on his long metal rifle

His killing machine
To do his dirty work

A sixth sense activates
Honing in on the blue bird

Raising his gun with out hesitation
He levels his eye with the sight

Positioning it the right way
He follows bird

A careful c*** of the pump
And a light finger on the trigger

A bullet is sent spiraling
In to the atmosphere

Travling faster than the eyes can see it
Reaches the bird

Tearing though it magnificent wings
It rips with ease though its small fleshy body

Exiting the other side the bullet flies on in to oblivion
Blue bird loosens its tight stance- giving in to the weight of the world

Lifeless, it plummets to the ground
Free falling

With a light almost unnoticeable thud it lands
Dead

Soon there will be no trace left
No reminder, no memories

After all who cares
For a lonely blue bird?

A hunter, with sweat trading down his pale face
Proudly marches on a parade with only himself





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