Bars of aged metal stands between

myself and freedom.

There was always the question of

why the caged bird sung,

But I can assure you

we do not; we cry.

Pain from wings unable to spread and

soar through the sky.

I’ve forgotten what it felt like to have

the breeze underneath my wings.

Before this entrapment I had taken

for granted that kind of thing.

Now I weep teardrops

of unspoken dreams.

This is why you’ll never

hear a caged bird sing.