The Bird of D’Artagnan

They called him aggressive.

They called him possessive.

But no one saw

the cold in his feathers.

No one saw

the winter he was crossing.

So he stood tall.

Proud.

Not to impress.

But to survive.

One day, he flew away.

And the tree understood

he had never been a tyrant.

He was simply

a living being

who refused to disappear.

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