As luck would have it you were disposed of. Peeled off the ground piece by piece by someone who looked at you with utter repulsion. Gone before your blood turned to a sticky tar running through the cracks and grooves. How could I not be jealous of you? For three days I slowed down my pace just so I could observe you. I started making myself take that particular route and each time I acted surprised by your appearance all the while feeling deep comfort that you were still there. My kindred. A better version of myself. No one would ever blame you for how you ended up.
Leathery feathers glued together by your secretions and the weather which tried to wash you away. Porous grit- the glitter of decay sprinkled around your last breath. Your beak was agape and it looked like you were trying to talk. How comfortable it must be to have no words left to say. How peaceful to be stepped over, walked around and ignored without awareness.
An inconvenience and a mar on the decor but only for a moment. Then forgotten and free to fly away.