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I Express Myself Through Writing

Feathers drift in the air, a sight most common when a flying grace is mercilessly shot out of the sky. A sickening thud resonates throughout the area, followed by twisted laughter of deranged minds as they celebrate their accomplishment.

No grave to commemorate its life; the dregs pick at its flesh and strip it to the bone. The harmless creature, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It had aimed high and soared higher; only to fall at the hands of the wicked who kill for sport.

 
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