I, as a child, deciphering meaning in birds gold reserve. Much inspired by Maya Angelou. |
I know why a caged bird sings throat too tense to let out a scream from all the smoke that settles in air water so vile vermin wouldn't dare. Trapped in gold cages floors made of news pages and these superior sages suspiciously speak to you here. They say that you have everything a tremendously truly blessed being but then they clip your wings and your mind lets out a ring. These people are not saviors misguided by others past behaviors telling themselves it's for your favor unbeknownst becoming evil greater. They want themselves to admire to think they’re breed somewhat higher doing anything without a thought conspire always creeping closer to their coming dire. Your flight they've taken away any fight they've broken to say lying content until you're an attention expected to dance for your incarceration. You are a slave now pretty bird in now picked peeling gold reserve and where every cry goes unheard mistook for a song they deserve. I would free you if I dared, dared you let your life be shared but my mother must beg my behave as you're not the only in-house slave. |