To my dear friend.

Just something short.

Tilt your chin upward, forlorn blackbird;

your pride will soon congeal.


Remember, when you plummet into the ground,

you can't fall further; you can only heal.


Take the little spirit left in your chest

to release a painful caw.


Your beauty lies in your passionate lungs;

The sound, though mournful, is powerful and true.


All you have to do is tolerate the view.

The End

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