The bird looks at the cage
The good old one she fled long ago
Now, yearning to be enslaved again
Rather this time with little shackles rather
She remembers the days when she was protected and provided for
But she, young and high
Envied the liberated ones who flew by
The youth, the heat, and the envy made a perfect combination for rebellion
The cage was strong, but…
Then came the artist
For whom pursuing meant practicing his art
As expected, the bird broke the cage
And left never to return
In heat, in love, in lust
Little did she know
That an artist needs a muse, not a companion
So much she wishes now her former owner allows her back to the cage
But the cage she broke has been repaired
And she can sight her replacement in it
Also, no one else wants to own a runaway bird
So she is left alone in the cold and dark
To be consumed by predators
Yet I hope she is happy
For she has all that she ever wanted
Her freedom
