I feel like a bird
trapped in a cage.
It's standing in your room,
you chose the biggest one,
one where I could almost feel free.

You look at me,
feed me just enough
so I don't starve.
Sometimes you let me fly in your apartment,
catch me on your hand,
admire me
before you put me back into my cage,
lock it
and leave the room.

While you're gone
I look out the window,
see the sun rise and fall,
the trees change,
see the wind in the clouds.

God,
the things I would do
to feel it in my wings,
to fly through the moving clouds,
let me fall from the sky
just to catch me right in time.
I'd do it
over
and over
and over again.

Fly through the woods,
hear others of my kind
sing their songs,
feel the rain soak my feathers
and smell the wet earth afterwards.

Bathe in the sun,
fly over meadows
and land on a branch
more secure than your hand.

But
if I got lonely,
I'd return to your window,
beg you to put me back
in this too tight cage,
to feed me these tiny portions of food
you call love
and let me sit on your hand
when you feel alone.

And no matter how much you love me,
you would never
open the window for me
whilst I
would always
return
back to you.