I am just a shell.
I don't have much life inside of me.
Well maybe a little sticky mess
that resembles the form of a snail
trying to squirm my way out.
I only need one foot for that.
That's a good thing because I severed the other
foot attempting to come out of my coffin from an early burial.

What happens when a snail realizes she is just a snail?

She says, "Ok, I'm a snail.  I'll do what snails do."
Slow and steady wins the race...

So why do I feel like a red tailed hawk looking for an opening to soar through?

Acquiescing to a snail's life
is the same as having my wings clipped.

*I may be caged, jailed, grounded...but in my dreams I fly high towards the endless horizon.
Leaving that slimy shell prison in my dust.