Lace up my throat
With lace and chains.

Bind my heart in place
With the finest cashmere yarn
And life-******* ivy.

Secure my feet
To the ground
with rusted nails
And silk thread.

But you cannot clip my wings,
For my feathers have grown to be
Made of carbon
That your dull steel sword
Cannot hinder nor damage.

My wings cannot be clipped
Any longer,
For your iron sword,
As sharp as your tongue,
Cannot and will not
Graze my feathers.

I was born to burn,
I have learned to rise.
To put it simply,
With a Bluebird I'll fly.