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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1725269
It expresses some of my feelings lately.
I am a caged bird with a broken wing.
Even if I were to escape, where would I go?

I can not fly, and so I do not sing.
There is nothing to sing of in a prison.

Whenever my master walks by, I chirp softly.
But I go unnoticed, uncared for.

There is no one to love me
and no one for me to love.

I am nothing but a pretty prize.
Something to own.
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