The Beast of the Cage

In this cage there lives a beast,
A soul-less monster long deceased.

Its rotting flesh peels from its form,
It’s ashes make a rising storm.

It binds me earthen with this chain,
Limbs of clay under the rain.

My clay-bound body traps my soul,
Gradually I turn to stone.

Pieces of me chip away,
What will happen if I stay?

I peer around at others trapped,
Watching as their souls are cracked.

I try to sprout my angel’s wings,
But I’m bound by rusted chains.

I cry in sorrow as I fail,
to break through chains to no avail.

The blood-caked bars of this rusty cage,
Reflect the beast and his rage.

I fight against what has kept me,
I want to fly over the sea.

I know that if I can escape,
my wings will never be called fake.

They won't melt from the sun,
wings of wax and I'd be done.

These thoughs, they rage through my mind,
I will be free of my own kind.

He watches my chains fall away,
I’m free from hell this very day.

I spread my wings and fly up high,
Through the bars and to the sky.

No wax is falling from my wings,
I knew they were the real things.

My wings, snow white, they touch the sun,
I peer down at others while they run.

They still are trapped within their chains,
Slowly beginning to leave their pains.

Feathers fold out from their backs,
no longer burdened with what each lacks.

Finally, my work is done,
They all break from it one by one.

The beast looks up at my flying form,
The look on his face is purely forlorn.

His angry shell, it peels away,
To reveal a young boy, plain as day.

I could not help him grow his wings,
So in the cage is where he sings.