Sweet bird of mine,
Feathers of colour and gold,
Sing a song of pure for us,
Woe my troubles of young and old,

Locked up to perform,
Your smiles and sunshine taken,
Now nothing but a mere sideshow attraction,
With the strength and courage in your heart slowly breaking,

Stolen from an age of young,
You never really stood a chance,
Now you spend all your days in this rusty cage,
Singing songs you hate and doing your tedious dance,

The bird begs for its freedom,
Getting lost in its own imaginary hope,
But dreaming of a life outside this prison,
Is the only way this beautiful animal can cope,

But it already knows resistance is futile,
The fight inside him virtually all gone,
So instead of begging for freedom,
It sings me a pretty song,

He looks outside the window,
Only bars separate him from a life worth living,
He can taste the air of liberty upon his tongue,
But song and dance he must keep giving,

Over time, I saw the birds hope slowly vanish,
Becoming institutionalised by my greed,
It’s spirit now broken,
Knowing he will never get freed

It gets fed and watered,
The bare minimum of existence,
Beaten by the hypocrisy of my wants and needs,
His desire for freedom now long and distant,

Sometimes I look at him,
With pity and sorrow,
With guilt in my heart, I say I’ll free him later today,
But I said that yesterday and I’ll say it again tomorrow,

Because the truth is, if I ever wanted that bird to fly,
I’d have to open the cage door and let it free,
But I can’t ever release him from his prison,
Because that caged bird……. Is me.

Wrote on: 19/01/2024