You escaped the cages that all our hearts are imprisoned in. You slipped out between the bars, and disappeared into the dawn. Our cages all collapsed when you left and we couldn't hold them up without you. And I hated you for it, because I relied so much on what you destroyed. I watched your silhouette against the sunset sky, and I was jealous of how you spread your wings and soared--when I was forced to remain in the cold shadows of the fraying nest. I thought my feathers too brittle to follow you. Everyone hated you, we all envied the way you laughed when we never had time to laugh--we were too busy clinging to the broken pieces of the cages that once protected us. We hated you--I hated you--because secretly we all wanted your freedom.

One day I woke up and you weren't flying above us, and I realized that there was nothing to keep me with the flock. So, like you, I flew away, too. To greater adventures, more colorful sunrises and sunsets, and a horizon that no longer tempted me because I was married to it.