The Birds of You.
Thoughts, ideas, dreams, passions, and desires beat against the walls of your mind, clawing at your imagination, begging to be set free, unleashed. And if you are preoccupied with the mundane concerns of life, if you ignore the cries of your creativity, the expressions of your heart, the designs of your imagination, and if you leave it all there, caged within the walls of your mind, they will slowly die and in time, so will you. You will exist as a body, sure. You will work your shift, skip your breakfast, get angry at your alarm clock in the morning, you will complain, grow bitter, and a familiar sadness will haunt you, you will succeed in certain relationships and fail in many others, but you will cease to live. And even through your duties will push you along this journey of life, you will never experience it and taste it for the sweetness it can offer. You will never truly appreciate the beauty of every moment. You will probably talk often about the weather. Complain about the heat, curse at the cold, damn the rain, and always exist, waiting to live for the next season.
All these things will be, because long ago, someday into the past, you were too busy, too preoccupied, too afraid of change and adversity, and too comfortable, to open the doors and the windows of your mind and set free the sphinx of your imagination, the peafowl of your dreams, the flamingo of your passions, the golden pheasant of your creativity, and the swan of your desires. And slowly, one by one, neglected and starved, they died. What you will then realize, that all along, it was yourself you locked away, it was yourself you starved, and it was the heart of you, you murdered.