Broken Bird

You see a bird of broken spirit, that, no longer can sing. Trapped within an aging cage, with a lock, that will not spring. Fed only seeds of self contempt and water of isolation. A single stick to rest upon, holding on with desperation. Once the bird had feathers bright, a heart of the mighty Hawk. With the will to fly and soar, Never to be grounded and mocked. But being wounded deep inside, where the spirit dwells, Left the bird a mere shadow, trapped within an empty shell. The cage, that now, surrounds the bird, drained all the color from its life. Stolen every thing she is, cut out her song like a knife. The cage grows new bars each day, so that all that the bird was, is gone. There looks as though there is no way out, as it has been building for so long. Somewhere, there is a key, that will one day, click the lock. Then perhaps, the bird, once again, will fly with the heart of a hawk.