I have been reading about the way that telling lies becomes easier and easier the more you do it; the part of the brain that feels stress when a person is untruthful starts to feel more and more comfortable as the habit increases.
I think lying weighs down your feathers like crude oil on a seabird's plumage; it sticks to you, clogs up your movements, takes your beauty away, and stops you from flying. No longer a free spirit, you are weighed down by deceit and burdened by complication. You might begin to lie to yourself or persuade others to fall in with your deception, bound together by dishonesty.
Perhaps rather a depressing thought for a winter morning's blog posting; a more positive one to follow, I hope.