Life is too short for boring stories

I have never been different than I am.
I never got bent.
Nobody ever stopped me from spreading my wings and flying away if I wanted to.
Nobody could ever cut my wings.
Yes, sometimes I stay, for a little while, until it gets too tight for me, until it feels as if I’m suffocating as if I could not breathe. Then you have to let me fly, if you do not want me to perish.
I have never allowed the windows to be closed.
I never surrendered.
I have never been different than I am.


No, not never. Only once have you been able to seduce me into unfaithfulness to myself, and only because you have taken advantage of my present weakness, in the experience of the greatest cold and deepest loneliness. And yet it is nothing but cheap excuses in the face of my failure. It happened on one of those December days, when the nights seemed so endless, cold and icy nights, and the days were only very timid. At times I sat on a branch and looked in at the window, behind which so much warmth and light lived. „Once you sleep in the warmth,“ I thought, and as if a call had been made, you left the warm room, and stepped close to the branch on which I sat to lure me with sweet food and fire in the fireplace.

„Come on, little wild bird, let me feed you and welcome you in a warm home, just this one night,“ you whispered to me.
„Oh, that sounds tempting, very tempting, but you want to lock me up in a cage and keep it, and I do not survive,“ I renounced the tempting offer.
„No, I know who and what you are. I only want you good, because I love you with all my heart. During the spring, summer and fall you enriched my life and me with your singing, but now you are silent, right now, where your singing would bring so much warmth and light into these cold, gray winter days, right now you are silent. Let me warm and feed you, so that you can sing again „, you promise me.
„It is not the cold and not the gray that silenced me, but this deep sadness and indefinite longing,“ I replied.
„I’ll do my best to quench them, too,“ you promised me, and I dared entrust myself to you that night. And it was true that the warmth and the light, your care and your attention did me well, and so I stayed, this one night. You kept your word and let me go the next morning, freeing me to come back the next night. Slowly I took confidence in you, because I was full and satisfied. Nothing urged me more or pulled me away until spring came. One evening, I announced that I would move on the next morning, but when I woke up, I found myself locked up.
„You cannot leave me,“ you said.
„I’m not leaving you,“ I replied.
„But you wanted to leave,“ you said.
„I have to go, otherwise I’ll go in,“ I replied simply.

But you did not hear, you broke me, because you wanted to own me. But you can only own dead things. Or what you killed.

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