'Twas the hardest part,
Thine heart's lesser beat.
But the instinct in thy face
Was crafted so delicately neat.

Thy lips peel back,
And thy dimples expose;
Muscle memory structured
A smile to a fold.

And here thou sitteth,
Broken and faint.
And thou dieth with a smile,
One I helped to create.

Rest now with those that can fly.
For soon my love,
I will take to the sky.
And once again 'twill be

Thee and I.

I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.

I am a victim of self hate
And never ending insomnia.

I swear my bones are crumbling
Inside the flesh of which holds
Nightmares and maniacal dreams
Embedded within my genetic makeup.

I swear every morning my eyes open
My very entity is ***** by anxiety.

My soul is pregnant with Its child-
Panic of which eats at my mind
Leaving me to starve without an ounce of
Peace.

-ARI