I've tried to write my story
But it takes a turn toward silence
Every time the limb I'm standing on
Begins to creak under my weight.
Perhaps its just illusion that
Transforms my speech into a song,
But when the tune undoes me,
And the branch snaps suddenly,
Instinct spreads my arms which may
Have always had these feathers, and
Perhaps the tale I long to tell
Unfolds another way.
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