It's rather lonely,
Being the last of my kind.
To know that,
One will not continue forth our way of life.
I lie on the ground,
Brittle and old.
Feeling my bones grow weaker,
My scales falling to the ground.
My cave of treasures,
Bring comfort in this time of solitude.
Maybe one day,
Someone else can apricate what I have gathered.
My wings are weathered and stiff,
They will not hold any longer in the wind.
Oh how I miss flying,
Through the mountains I call my home.
I feel the last of my embers burn,
As I close my eyes.
I feel my body relax,
As I take my final breath.
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