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I remember

waking up to birdsong.

Back then,

the sky belonged to wings.

Now,

just as my grandmother’s old book once warned,

iron birds

have taken their place.

The stories we feared as children

became the headlines we wake up to.

I’m tired

of counting sirens instead of sunsets.

I don’t want another tomorrow

filled with fear.

I want to smile again.

I want to stroke my cat

without wondering

what tomorrow will bring.

We grew older.

And somewhere along the way,

the world