“I am a cage, in search of a bird.” - Franz Kafka
"I know why the caged bird sings" - Maya Angelou
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i was a frog who wanted to be king until i realized i couldn't even sing a songbird shrilled "you're only a croaker out of tune" still i stood on my stump with a tortured smile croaking my heart out all the while i dreamed of being a stand-up crooner a swamp-side sinatra maybe a little sooner the crickets laughed the herons one-legged stared every fragile dream i swallowed sat inside me broken and unprepared the wart-filled toad spat from his lily pad "you’re stretching your skin boy settle into the scum" i carried an empty pond inside where a thousand thorny dreams went to die the audience left the moon went home a cold blue screen spit its light onto the scum unthinking no one returned my croak i died a little every time i tried my face looked back from the pond mud-covered wart-covered ugly my reflection looked away all it could do was cry today the water settled the mud claimed the surface when i looked down there wasn’t even a frog left to die
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