My life being a free bird doesn’t mean I don’t have any wish to do more or something. I am tiered of flying, I want to settle down, but people don’t like me sitting & they start wooing. So, again I fly in some unwanted direction everything seems so suttle but they are not. Things & time doesn’t wait for anyone. I decide not to fly but my fellow decides their destination for all each day and I have to fly so that I don’t get lost anywhere or I don’t become alone anywhere. What is there then when I can’t decide my own destination with my kind or my choice? Why is it always that I have to adapt the things around? What is the point of being free, when I can’t even decide when to fly or where to fly?
I am in my own sense become a prisoner of my freedom. I don’t like my wings thereof; I don’t want to be free thereby. I don’t want to be a free bird anymore. I don’t want to be free anyway.
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