Every time I think I might be free, I think to the cage that holds me.
A bird of freedom locked away.
Maybe they think this way I'll stay, locked away feeling like a stray.
Should I even try, this cage is nice, no, this is the hurt the reason I pray and write my freedom.
The reason I don't fly.
The reason I feel so alone.
I see so many pass by from this cage, but none stay long enough to know the freedom I fear and need.
The freedom that drives, that loves me.
Or maybe it hates me, and that's why it stays so far from my reach.
......
...
To the dove in the cage, I hope freedom comes for us both.
♧ --------------♧----------------♧
"Every bird, every tree, every flower reminds me what a blessing and privilege it is just to be alive."
- Marty Rubin
YOU ARE READING
The words of a dead bard
Poetrylittle poems I've written, some good some bad. Most of these are a collection of emotions and feelings of loneliness and heartbreak that overwhelmed me, some now of love. This is a book to honour those and let the poor bard in me rest.
