i killed a bird

a poem

on my way home, there was a baby

bird in the road.

i drove around it.

should i have done something?

twenty minutes later

(give or take),

went back that way,

and it was still there—

confused and scared.

so this time

i pulled over to help.

not a second later,

the car behind me

sped around,

and ran it over.

it almost learned how to fly…

it was so close. almost there.

two mature birds

flew down to its body.

and as i idled on the side of the road

watching the other car disappear,

i started to cry.

left behind.

just me, a bird funeral,

and this pattern in my life:

i always have the best intentions

and still,

i’m left with consequences.

these little cuties did not die like the bird in my poem, don’t worry.

thank you for reading 🖤

em

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