No Birds of a Feather

You and I are two very different birds.
You and I do not share the same feather.

Yet at one time I believed
That you and I were one,
A pair of pure perfection,
Resting in the other's presence
On the same humble branch of
The same humble tree.

But time has told a different story,
For that branch grew a twig,
A scraggly, bending division
Of leafy haze that sprouted
Promptly between you and I.

Fitting.

There is no 'we',
Only you, and only me.
That twig was hardly a boundary,
But I remain on my branch
(It is mine).
I remain the bird I was a year ago.

You've since flown the coop,
To join a very different group,
In a different tree, on a shaky branch,
That sways and rocks in the
Slightest breeze.

It pained me at first to watch you leave,
But I soon realized your insignificance.
You're just a simple-minded
Pigeon carrying the message of
Compliance.

I hear your squealing chirps
Every now and then,
Those cries of imitation.

I cringe at the sound.

But I've since found another,
Who sings a soothing song of originality.

You never sang.