I tell her,
"I'm sorry."

But really,

I'm full of sorrow.

Sorrow locked
inside a cage.

Sorrow hidden
within the rage.

She says that
I'm a fighter.

But, I know
I lack might.

What use is
a fighter
ready to lay down
for the night?

Why am I like this?

I already told
someone else,

"I'm not a bird.
I don't fly."

But I wish
I could.

She says she
wants me
to be free...

That I'd be
a bird
without a song.

And isn't a bird
without a song
one that can't fly?

Isn't a bird
caged for too long
and been
so wronged,
one that can't
fly high?