Once, there was a very strong Eagle that flew high in the bright blue sky. Suddenly, it heard a fast-moving sound, followed by a sharp pain. Someone had shot an Arrow at the Eagle, and as a result, it started to fall towards the ground.
Feeling weak and in pain, the Eagle landed on the ground. It had lost a lot of its strength because of the deep wound caused by the Arrow. While lying on the ground, the Eagle saw something surprising.
The shaft of the Arrow had a feather attached to it, and it was not just any feather, but one of the Eagle's own feathers. The Eagle was both surprised and saddened to see this.
In its last moments, the Eagle said, "It is very sad that we can unintentionally provide our enemies with the tools to harm us." After saying that, the Eagle closed its eyes and took its final breath.
Once upon a time in a sky so blue it could've been a painting, an Eagle soared higher than a kite on a windy day. This bird was buff; we're talking superhero-level strong here.
But then, outta the blue—literally—an Arrow came zipping through the air like a race car. ZING! The Eagle felt a really sharp pain. "Oh no! That's worse than stubbing a toe!"
Down, down, down the Eagle went, tumbling like a toy airplane running out of juice. THUD! It hit the ground, feeling all floppy and weak, like a deflated balloon.
As it lay there, the Eagle took a peek at the Arrow that had started this whole mess. And guess what was on it? A feather! But not just any feather—a feather from its own tail!
"Hold on! Is that my feather? It's like wearing a shirt that says 'I did this to myself!'" the Eagle muttered, shocked and a little bit bummed.
The Eagle sighed, "Well, this is awkward. I've basically given away my own feather, and look what happened. I've basically tripped over my own tail feathers here."
And with that deep thought, the Eagle closed its eyes for the last time, a lesson learned even in the final act.
High above, where dreams do fly,
An Eagle soared, touching the sky.
Zooming past with a sound so swift,
An Arrow flew, causing a rift.
Down went the Eagle, once so strong,
Wondering what had gone wrong.
Upon the ground, the truth did gleam,
The story wasn’t as it did seem.
For on the Arrow, clear to see,
Was a feather from its own tree.
“Oh,” sighed the Eagle, a tear in its eye,
“My own feather, from way up high.”
With a heavy heart and a whispered sigh,
The Eagle whispered its last goodbye.
“Sometimes we give, without knowing thus,
The very thing that can harm us.”
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