Sweet little bird
Trapped in a cage
Not of her own making,
But one of golden bars.
Lovely, glittery bars,
But as pretty as they are,
They trap her nonetheless.
She once loved her place
Where she felt safe
And knew where she was.
But her one little
Taste of freedom prooved
No matter how pretty,
A cage is just a trap.
Madly, she flaps her wings,
Slamming against the
Cage's walls, trying to find
Her way out. But instead
She falls to the floor,
Out of breath, broken
And bruised.
And so slowly she
Pulls herself back up
To her perch, fluffs her
Feathers, dries her tears,
Covers her wounds, and
Puffs out her feathered chest,
Smiling like nothing's wrong.
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