A hummingbird’s fragile heart can beat up to 1260 beats per minute.
That’s a whopping 21 beats per second,
Which is rather fitting,
Because my pumping ***** manically pounds against my chest at a constant rate.
It only comprehends one anxious speed: fast.
What is also fitting,
Is that hummingbirds are capable of flying in all different sporadic directions,
And I am never meant to be in one place.
We are not meant to have a standard sightseeing radius of one cul-de-sac,
But rather drift and soar to various dimensions and realities.
Without this freedom, we both simply cease to exist as an entity.
And so, when we find ourselves trapped-
Which is the one primitive and instinctual fear birds and humans alike have in common-
Desperation and panic cannot begin to describe
The depth of the dark cave of unfitting enclosure
In which our brightly vibes of body and mind find ourselves in.
We ****** and thrash ourselves in a suicidal manner against the bars,
We refuse food and drink in silent protest and rebellion,
And then beg and plead with our captors to be let free at last,
Wondering why, the hummingbird and I, deserve to suffer.
What did we do?
Claustrophobia is a serious issue. And it does not have to be in the form of a cage.
And it chokes.
Hummingbirds are delicate creatures.
If you squeeze too tightly, their eyes will bulge out of their skull,
And their heart will race to extreme measures,
Until they are crushed and are no more,
Leaving the captor’s hands wet and sopping
With blood and guts and feathers.
Please do not crush me.