BIRDS THAT CAN'T FLY

By: Molly Nicole www.geocities.com/molly_nicole_16/mollynicole

A bird that can't fly,
Sits in a miniature cage,
On a perch, and looks through the silver wires,
This small space is his entire world, nothing beyond it,
And it stays the same every day, nothing ever changes,
Every little detail has already been explored, a long time ago,
On the first few days of the beginning of this "life."

What do you do when your world is about a foot wide?
Climb on the wires and then hop onto the other wires?
Call for someone because it's so insane,
Pull my feathers out,
I can hardly explain how this sadness feels,
It's deeper than just sadness.
I am getting by, by hours upon hours, of days, of months, of years now, I've been living like this,
Getting by for what?
Hope?

But there has been no question of letting him out of his cage,
The owner goes about living her busy life,
Where all her interests are at her fingertips,
So it's hard for her to know what its like for him.

If only someone could go into their mind for just a moment,
And then they would suddenly feel all of their feelings,
And know there is much more than what their face could tell,
And words could not amount,
Because then they would know what its like,
And know that if they used to pretend that the bird is happy, they can no longer pretend,
Realizing it was easy to because birds are not able to say otherwise.

Finches sit in miniature cages, locked in until the day they die,
And they're life has been wasted,
Because no one could comprehend how sad and boring their life could be.

What they ache for can't be satisfied by toys or perches,
They want the simple thrill and joy of being alive,
being beyond wired containment,
Beyond insanity or depression,
They just want to feel free,
And see everything new again,
Like life is now worth living,
And it can be beautiful.

I AM FLESH AND BLOOD

By: Molly Nicole

I am in the middle of four wire walls,
Enclosed,
To live here all my days,
I am outside at the mercy of weather,
No place to stay warm when it's cold,
So I am vulnerable,
And constantly cold to the core,
And it's so uncomfortable,
I long to ease this feeling I've had for so long.

They only come by to simply place food into my bowl,
And then close the door,
And I am so lonely,
I long for companionship,
Just something,
'Cause my life seems so empty,
I don't even have something to keep my mind busy,
There is nothing,
I want so much just to run through the grass and stretch my legs,
Just for a moment of freedom and joy I'd do anything,
But all of these things I cannot have,
And it hurts my soul,
It aches,
That I have nothing and no one.

I am a rabbit in a cage,
And all I want is love.

The Cage

By: James STEPHENS (1882-1950)

It tried to get from out the cage;
Here and there it ran, and tried
At the edges and the side,
In a busy, timid rage.

Trying yet to find the key
Into freedom, trying yet,
In a timid rage to get
To its old tranquillity.

It did not know, it did not see,
It did not turn an eye, or care
That a man was watching there
While it raged so timidly.

It ran without a sound, it tried,
In a busy, timid rage,
To escape from out the cage
By the edges and the side.