How does a bird such as myself engage with mankind?
If I open my beak to speak, my coarse voice is sure to frighten you. If I take the hand extended, your soft flesh is sure to feel the bite of sharp claws.
I am a great listener, I assure you. I assure myself. I will be at your side, perched upon the pallid bust of interest. Yet with but a glance of your curious eyes, I feel the irresistible call to the sky.
In my defeat, a voice calls hauntingly of nevermore. A word placed upon my soul by another, rooted so deep I feel it is my own.
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