Perched on a branch,
The little bird could not fight her anxiety,
She knew not , how to be free of fear
All she saw was the killing of friends
The ones she held dear,
As the clock ticked, a soul flew towards her.
It told her to forget the fear and puff her chest,
She would fly today and forget the past.
copyright- Meloheart
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Primatology and Purpose in the South of France
A journal of the Society for Applied Anthropology
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