Cluck

The shell cracks and rolls.
But the glue holds it still.
The straw pokes at my cheek,
and it itches my skin.

Let the bird fly, soar high.
I am not a chicken, you ditz.
I can too flap, yes true.
But the chains are still here.

I am not here joined.
Other half's never here.
I cry and plead
for such a half never there.

I cannot take a step forward,
yet I know where I stand.
I know not who I am, true;
but I know who I want to be.

Why don't you let me?
Why do you stop me?
I can see it ahead, unreachable;
for you cut off my wings.