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Morning to night. Night to day. Day into evening and back again. I'm told my life is short not long. Within the walls that make up this shell, some thing is going to come out.
She says it's a good thing.
A thing to look forward to.
But all I see is the darkness beyond. Beyond the light at the end of the tunnel--which is all they see.
"Who did you give birth to?" I want to scream.
But I have no mouth. No beak. No mouth to scream with. No beak to chirp with. And that thing does.
One more month they say. That's all I have.
One more month before this shell of an existence fades away--cracks, they say.
Caring so warmly. But not for the egg. But the living being inside. The "living" being inside.
Who ever said eggs weren't live?
I peer over the edge of the nest. A snake beckons me with its widening jaws.
So easy, to just fall...fall...fall...
But I stop because. This life is not my own.
A month they say.
Just a month. A month.