It is cold here,
but my throat burns with anguish and self-hatred.
My body failed more than it was appreciated.
A beautiful, red ribbon holds me to the ground.
This ribbon restrains me from flying away to someplace warm,
but I dare not untie it.
For it has enchanted me and I believe that it is good.
A black crow also has this same red ribbon, closing its beak tightly.
This crow has something dark to tell,
but the ribbon dares not let it speak.
For beauty's secret thrives off of being unreal.
And if it was untied,
everyone could fly