Little Bird

What a shame, Little Bird. What a shame. Two little broken wings hanging limp. So obviously plain to see failure on your back. At least you didn’t burn. Icarus was calling. Not burned, Little Bird. Broken, Little Bird. Brought down by what you thought would lift you up. Don’t cry, Little Bird. You’re not done yet. There are others, other winds to sell your soul to. Other ways for you to fly like all the other birds. You don’t want to be different. Do you? Everyone can tell, Little Bird, that you have fallen. You are different you stand out. Little Bird, Fix those wings. Do whatever to fly with everyone. Wear chains for your whole life. Look up. Half of those birds have got chains. You’ll be one of them. The same. So, Little Bird, what’s it going to be? Your wings, or being free?