Write, do I?
I speak of the same things
In every poem I sing
Like a bird,
I sing the same song over and over again
Until a new song has been revealed
To the world of this little bird
Freedom does this bird recognize well
And the peace of a chilled night
Also- this bird knows
The anger and agony nature brings,
Full of terror and violence
That only a storm can bring
The caged bird
Knows not of freedom
But escaping
Escaping the arms of its master
Who clutches this little bird
And shows it the safety of its cage
In attempt of deluding this poor little bird
The master whispers in its ear
Of the shelter and food it brings to this little bird
Oh, but lies does he tell
Food is not of shortage in this bird’s true home
Shelter is not of shortage either
A family waiting for this caged bird
To fly home
And a master –guarding this birds cell
So no escapes shall be made
And no happiness shall this bird receive
From its frightening master
Freedom does this bird dream of
And loneliness does this bird get
