I found a little bird with broken wings,
so emaciated from starvation.
There’s no voice for songs, just a sound that stings.
His scared, child-like eyes can’t see salvation.
Cold and trembling, sure that harm is to come,
his beak and talons are just as a hawk’s
Angry about what his life has become,
if I try to help, he scratches and squawks.
So, he lacks the skills of civilized cultures.
Some would say he’s just a barbarian.
He’s a dove, been raised by vultures,
and fed just bits of diseased carrion.
I see his chance for recovery’s slim,
so I put him back where once I found him.
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