I wanna fly,
Far away the crimson sky.
I have a pair of wing,
To fly with them and sing.
Nightingale is my friend,
We two set some trend.
To live in our space,
We are happily flying and dance.
We Dance, Sing, Fly and LOVE !!
I wanna fly, fly high. I think I was a bird in my last life; I always have a wish to fly high, far away the crimson sky, where I can see people from top, where I’m above everyone’s head.
She was a struggling, urban girl; always lost somewhere telling me her stories. She recently moved to this city, the city of her dreams.
I'm never scared of heights like you; whenever I climbed on any hill for getting water on the well there, I stand on the edge, echoing my name and I always wished that it would be a skyscraper of some Pink City, the biggest city of my imagination, the city of Dreams.
She told me once standing there on the edge of the building. I never tried stopping her to fly high but she aimed it and I wasn’t inspiring. I admit I have never seen more hopeful than than her. and then she got everything.
I feel good when I see this busy road, from the window of my building, people there look like tiny particles to me, and I feel I’m better than them. At least I’m self made. I have all what someone desired for and I’m not dependent on earth’s gravity to hold me to it, I can fly now.
I found her on the edge of hill sitting on the well, she was very happy that day. She found some fellow birds with her. To Live, Fly, Dance, Sing and Love.
I feel suffocation in this building, this city's cunning bird prison a free bird. I’m feeling like dying.
She last told me, the desire of flying high with some unknown bird broke her wings. The cruelty of a City killed the bird. And one day I heard they found the dead bird coming down from the highest floor.
The Bird Died and The Road is still Busy.