I wouldn't move. Not a bit. The strange soft voice whispers through the wind. It kept saying that i need to be free. I am not a bird. I don't live in a cage. But my life is. The tender touch of the wind makes it all harder to realize. I need to wake up. Wake up from all of this. Wake up to be free. Not a prisoner. But then, i would have a beautiful cage. So beatiful that it feels like home. Not a prison, not something that kept all your feelings go clumsy. Vintage life. My way.