Treat yourself as a wild bird.
Something that deserves to be free.
Your song may not be perfect,
but it tells a story.
Let them question it.
The domestic ones may mock you.
But remember,
they are too distracted by the servants who treat them like kings to realize that the cages they hold themselves in are closed.
They are not free to think they are trapped.
They are not free to roam the open lands of which you seek.
They do not get to make masterpieces with the rose petals that bloom every year.
You watch the stars late at night, not shutting your eyes because of the fear that when you do,
everyone you ever loved would leave you behind.
But remember.
Those who stay are not only the ones who bring you in.
But they are the ones who stay awake, worrying that when they close their eyes, the will miss the chance to say goodbye.
They watch the birds in the sky hopefully, believing that one day they will shut their eyes and finally dream.
Dream that the songs you sing will never end.
That every time they see you cry, they will mend the cuts that make it so you can no longer fly.
For if we didn't have them, there would be no birds left in the sky.
The songs would all die down.
There will no longer be stories about fighters who proved there was hope.
Only the dead silence and agonizing pain would be left.
