I have hollow bones

so I can soar in the air

I overturn the stones

and find that nothings there.

I'm stalked for my flesh

and the feathers that allow me

to escape the recent wreck

of my nest boside the sea.

I warble in the morn

I hunt for mice at night

I peck for specks of corn

the I leave to take flight

and bring sustenance to the brood

the purpose of my life

I hope they wont think it rude

if I call my responsibilities strife.

My plumage is the finest

of all that adorns my kin

I battle through the tempest

into the hearts of men.

But vanity is for the weak

I am glad for when I molt

for even though I look bleak

its easier to bolt

away from those who hate me

those tethered to the land

but they will never escape me

the shadowlarks stealing hand.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Apparently Im too happy in this place. I dont understand. I could be in prison and instead I get to recover and do fun stuff. WTF

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