Liberation, short lived by cold reality
Just a hapless bird, trapped
Who flew outside her gilded cage,
to find one larger still, made of soild glass.
Veiny lines of futile escapes
stretch across the surface, thin as gossamer
Pounding and banging she flutters to the ground
Devoid of strength to resist anymore.

A single tune, a note never purer to be found
Escapes her lifeless lungs
Like thread through a needle
Or water through cracks
Her song, melodic and frail, barely even heard
Reaching the ears of those with open hearts
A single word, her last resort.
**"Help"