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My Perch is Old and Worn

I am a caged bird,
With an open door,
Staying within these bars purely for entertainment.
When that hand freed me with a rotated latch
I spread my wings and soared.
There is always a market for beauty in its most Innocent form.
And I returned to my perch
Though the hand that had given me life disappeared,
It was replaced and I felt obliged to remain and prove their worthiness.
I am a tool.
My wings are clipped and I'm domesticated.

Author notes

sometimes you just cant get away from the same cycle.
Written June 9th, 2006

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