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It was the morning when the fine rays hit the earth.
The blazing globe raised the temperature and the sunflowers
blossomed
I heard a noise, disturbing and not so loud
I followed and found a baby pigeon laying on the grass
It'd fell of the tree
Thinking that it died I left it there
But it did not lose hope, and I saw it survive the day.
With the broken leg it continued to use its primitive wings
Trying and fighting
Yet, I left it there...
Next morning it was nowhere to be found
It had disappeared.
A smile crossed my face and I thanked god that I didn't
trade his freedom fora caged life.
Three days went by and I knew the baby pigeon was happy.
On the fourth morning I heard myself yelp in pity, the baby
pigeon was held in between the beak of a crow.
It's eyes were closed
What If I had taken him in?
Would saving his life would have been of any use, I muse?
He was no more, I imagine the amount of pain he'd undergone
to fly with a broken leg.
Abandoned by his mother already, he was new to the chain.
Where would have he gone?
Wasn't death a better option here?
Yet, why did god not kill him in jiffy and make it suffer.
Once or twice the thought crossed my mind, what if I'd saved
it?
Freedom would have been foreign to him, yet he would have
been taken care of.
But alas! it was dead.
Do the probabilities even matter now?
That's it for now😳 Lemme know your views
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