I sit on the tree log as I admire the forest’s view. The surroundings are asleep apart from the excited birds who do nothing but to disturb the silence. They chirp, they tweet, they sing, and they chant.

I see hot red. I stand up and scream at the top of my lungs. They forgot me, the birds. They forgot to mention my soul in their tunes. I should kill them, but I can’t. Hope still flickers inside me, that one day, they might remember not to forget me.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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