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The poems in my school textbooks only ever talked about the trees who let birds swing on their branches, but I just watched a little birdy perched upon a telephone wire, swinging back and forth before plunging into the sky. Made me think that maybe it is not the trees who let the birds swing on them and that actually, it is the birds who want to just swing into flight from everything. I mean, how different are things from the truth I think.

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