WOOSH!
The wind blows against my wings like a tornado hits a house,
My wings feel broken, almost as if they have been hit, by stones,
And rocks
And sticks,
The wind blows against my wings,
It blows so hard
And then,
I reach the leaves,
On the maple tree,
And then I know my wings won’t be the only thing hurting
My blood splatters across the boring green leaves,
Filling them,
With color
Reds,
Yellows,
Oranges,
Yes
My blood is what is used to give color to the leaves when autumn comes,
Trust me,
If I didn’t have to,
I wouldn’t
I couldn’t,
Not though,
Or else they would find me,
And then my wings wouldn’t be getting hurt by the wind
They would be getting hurt by them,
My wings would feel broken,
Broken,
Broken
Like the wind,
But worse,
Red, yellow, and orange,
Are my least favorite
Colors,
Crunch!
Oh no,
Here they come.
Taking off,
I fly.
To the garden,
Where flowers bloom
Up to the sky,
And I can rest like,
I haven’t slept before,
In the garden of the Autumn Pixies
CAW!
A crow,
Barks like a dog,
A warning call of what is to come
I whip around.
And there they stand.
Grinning.
GET AWAY
I scream.
But they do not care,
I grab a stick beside me,
And swing it viciously.
It hits one of them.
And I laugh with joy,
Joy,
Joy
Joy,
They jump at me,
And I kick at them.
Jump
Kick,
Jump,
Kick,
Finally, they’re gone
And I relax,
On top of the flower,
In the garden,
Of the Autumn Pixies!
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