A bird is an elegant creature
Filled with good intention as they sore
They spread their wings with grace and freedom
Ever peaceful and completely free
Once a bird is trapped in cage
It is longer a free spirt, but a trapped soul
A soul slowly polluting and decaying
A bird that can not fly slowly goes mad
A rage building until they eventually snap
I'm afraid my wings have been snipped
And further into mad rage I slip
Flightless traded for elegance and freedom
Soon I'll fear a great part of me will be dead.