Albino allegory
There he is again, sitting on a twig,
His head drooping sadly.
Only his beak is as black as night.
His plumage is as white as driven snow.
He looks around.
Nobody there.
He has no friends because
He is different.
No matter that the blood in his veins
Is as red as theirs,
That his heart pounds in the same rhythm
As the hearts of all birds.
He has never known companionship.
For the others, his white plumage
Is a danger.
To associate with him is
To attract attention to oneself.
No one wants to be the prey of others,
Man, beast or bird.
To end in a jaw, or a pie,
Or twisting on a spit.
He calls plaintively in the same voice
As his siblings.
Loooooook at me!
Loooooook at me!
But they have no eyes for him.
So he moves on to the next twig
And stays in splendid isolation,
Waiting for something.
He knows not what.
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