Bird Poop on a Statue

I've every right to be here.

I, a carrier of progeny,

born swinging free on green,
my first mistake was to live so joyously;
bright, flash colors of life,
hot red, who knew it screams "eat me."

Pecked and pulled, and down
into the belly, not a whale,
but a warbler;
I slosh about, my flesh slowly devoured,
stuck with similarly skeletal kindred;
gloomy ends in a gloomy dark,
all born only for rebirth.
It seems we will go to waste.

Wet, steamy darkness.

But wait! Contraction!
New adventure!
Suddenly popping into bright, blinding light
and sent plummeting into free fall until
*plop*
 on top of Napoleon’s head,
a monument to tough skins
and the virtue of the small.