For now I know I can’t be free, that my feet are anchors planted on this earth.
That I can’t fly as much as my heart desires.
No matter how much I look up to the sky. Feel the sun on my face, watch as the clouds change, and the wind caresses my hair I will never be a bird.
I still need to be captive of my world, my very own cage. The one I do own the key yet I don’t use it to unlock.
So if I was a bird I would be a bad bird.
I would be like a pigeon always spending my time wobbling around on the streets of the same town square.
That is just as sad as not being a bird at all.
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