downfall (that of which has happened before)
'a flightless creature has no reason to preen its feathers.' those gifted with flight would sneer.
'it is instinct. i was given these wings to tend to, to fly with.' the fledgling pleaded
'your feathers are scarce. you have ruined yourself, your talons will never leave the ground.' they replied.
'but i am trying.'
its beak tore each feather one by one from its wings.
shimmering feathers once filled its wings in a colorful array.
empty space now haunted the fledglings mind. it wasn't intentional. the creature was merely preening, following its subconscious.
it cannot fly, a creature such as it was not meant to.
it preens.
it is pointless.