The beauty belies the suffering,
the sharp creases are formed with shaking fingers,
the planes of the delicate wings are smoothed,
the points formed,
the tiny beak is folded,
then a small tug at the corners opens the whole thing,
a tiny bird rests in the palm of my hand.
I only make them when my soul is full of unrest.
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About the Creator
Amanda Frazier
An aspiring author living in Connecticut, she is currently working on her first novel and enjoying as much poetry as she has time for.
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