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.