The Caged Bird's Song

She sang beautifully,
this bird I knew--
sweetly, happily.
Blindly, I listened.

I looked at her
once.
She sang,
her heart poured out;

I saw,
that once,
in the eyes of this bird,
brokenness.

She sang.
Still, she sang.

She fluttered around her cage
on clipped wings,
imagining her confines
were limitless skies.

She often nearly took flight,
imagining happiness
before collapsing,
crumpled,
at the bottom of the cage.

Here, she sang,
lamented,
mourned that which she never knew.

People believed we were happy,
this bird and me,
but all we had to fly on

were pairs of useless wings.