Fly away little bird.

Wings pushing the soft shell of the egg, mothered and protected in a small bed. My first words were spoken from cries and screams,  the shell had broken while my mother fed. While the contorted winds blew, and the big white eye stared, my parents lay awake poking out their heads.   But alas it was time to finally let go, nothing but simply a push with my wings as ignitions. Falling down to my grave, but I look up and don't give in, I fly high away, soaring through the winds similar to my ambitions. I look back to see their beaks with smiles, "Fly away little bird and return an eagle!"


This poem is about: 
My family


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