I'm a bird with a broken beak that wants to fly away, but I'm nailed to the floor, bleeding out. But what confuses me, and what may be the reason why I haven't ripped the nails out from my feet, is that I don't know, or I don't think, if I can handle flying for the first time, or even if I can, or want to, pull the nails out at all. Sometimes I wonder if I didn't want to fly at all. The other birds keep telling me how to pull the nails out. Some say its hard, somberly. Others yell that it's easy. All of them want me to pull them out. The birds makes me bleed.
I'm scared of what will happen to me when I take flight, I'm scared of what will happen to me if I remain nailed to the floor, but most of all... I'm scared of what will happen to me when I'm out of blood, what the other birds will do when I collapse on the floor in a crimson pool of lead. I don't want them to fell angry, I don't want them to feel sorry, I want them to feel like I do. I try to tell them, but I can't find the