Title: Perspectives
by Theo from North Yorkshire | in writing, poetry
Fallen autumn leaves crunch under the sole of my shoe;
Winter is coming.
The street is teeming with manic pedestrians,
Bustling to get home.
On the far side of the pavement stands a pigeon -
Head tucked in wing.
I am the only one who notices.
I approach him and gain no response - strange.
All survival instincts are now a second thought;
The sick bird's primary objective is to see tomorrow.
He shivers in the breeze,
And lets out a plea for mercy;
Nobody responds.
For him, this is the end of everything,
The world he knows is about to crash in.
Everything he lived for will soon be erased,
Until I am the only one who remembers him.
And when my meaningless death arrives,
All traces of his life will be non-existent.
Isn't it amazing that what means the world to him,
Means nothing to the world?
I walk on, into the mass crowd.
My life carries on and I have no time
For inconsequential tragedies.
I have a life to live and that's the most important thing.
Even if nobody else cares,
My life means something to me.
And after that, even I will forget.
It doesn't matter - there are a trillion other worlds out there.
From every person's perspective, their existence is the most important thing in the world.
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