The bird that flies too high
will eventually fall into the sea.
Or tumble into the rocky mountains,
scrapping its graceful wings on snagging branches.
It had flown too high,
reached its hay day
and now it must fall.
All good things must end.
The bird will not see the sky again.
It has given up the fight,
closed its eyes one last time.
Beat its wings the final flap.
There, under the crashing waves,
it disappears into the darkness,
with no one to save it.
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