She wants to run, to cry, to feel something new.
To get the magic back. Did she ever have it? Was there a clue?
To do something different. Taste the sweetness on her tongue.
A feeling of intensity. The feeling of being young.
It's being stuck that scares her. A prisoner in her own mind.
Staying the same, not choosing. Not seeking and nothing to find.
Shut it off. Put it out. Stop it from rising and bubbling over the surface.
What is bound to happen if she were to let it all go? To be the laughing stock of the entire circus?
And what if that were true and it felt to be the end of her?
She wants to run, to cry, to die? Let her choose and shed her fur.
In the night when she's all alone, that's where you'll catch the woman in flight.
A full grown creature, free, full of might.
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