I see him every morning,
Staring at the sky,
in a monochromatic world.
A barren land.
I watch as he walks,
Through forests, mountains, and villages.
His steps heavy and aimless,
smile beginning to fade.
He visited many,
giving away his feathers.
They spat and sneered.
How colorless they were.
Finally he arrived.
A towering Great Wall protected him.
He walked through the streets of his kingdom
Yet, no one greeted their king.
No cheers,
no parades,
completely devoid of life,
and he entered the palace alone.
There he sat,
in the throne of an abandoned castle,
wearing a broken crown,
The King of Featherless Crows.
This was the last thing I saw,
for I turned away from the mirror,
looked back at my reflection once more,
and went on with my day.
