it's not like one of those clean cuts, that leave behind nothing but a mere, white scar,
but rather that of a gouging wound; a piece of me,
no, no, an immense chunk of me, torn away.
twisted, strained, contorted, ripped,
until finally broken free
but wait, this isn't free
anything but free
like an eagle, destined to soar, held prisoner in a cage that's too small.
longing to be set free,
to fly
but simply
can't.