Never complains
do you
you bird of a feather
jesus incarnate
you so sweet and perfect
like a little lamb
chewing on cud
loving life like
a kite in the sky
so high
bit fragile
don't you think,
made of paper
was once a giant oak tree
tall and strong
sturdy
reduced to paste
liquid
put through rollers
dyed
now flimsy
enough to fly
enough to rip
at the very mention
of wind