“Birds flying high, you know how I feel…”

Is the song that my mind plays all day.

I want to fly like them, but you don’t know how I feel…

I know what I want to feel, but I can not fly,

I can not dream,

I can not live.

I’ve been told to cut my wings, but open my eyes and spread my fears.

And the fears ate my dreams, ate my will, ate my soul, ate my tears.

The tears have filled a river of broken wings and broken dreams.

Then in the nights, I want to rip my heart out.

Even when I want to fall asleep, the dream tears hunt me.

They hunt me, chasing a way to give me motives to believe and to live without cutting my wing, my tears, my dreams and my fears.