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Like a mute spectacle I stand, sighing, sadly staring at the silent caged birds that are now walking instead of flying; i often worry that I'll lose my words. Beautifully adorned I sit, thinking, lamenting gorgeous juxtapositions, ornate phrases, and new wonders—blinking, i admire my strict living conditions. Exhausted, so now down I lie, sobbing, wondering to myself about this cage that impedes my spirit and is robbing me of my ability to feel rage. I open my mouth to formulate sound, hoping for an idea I haven't found.
0
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
Quiet.
Like a mute spectacle I stand, sighing, sadly staring at the silent caged birds that are now walking instead of flying; i often worry that I'll lose my words. Beautifully adorned I sit, thinking, lamenting gorgeous juxtapositions, ornate phrases, and new wonders—blinking, i admire my strict living conditions. Exhausted, so now down I lie, sobbing, wondering to myself about this cage that impedes my spirit and is robbing me of my ability to feel rage. I open my mouth to formulate sound, hoping for an idea I haven't found.
shea-vogt
Written by
American
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
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