Serenity Stewart
I know why the caged bird sings…
You sing out of spite, for those who have wronged you to acknowledge your existence…
Yet you are nothing but a figment of your great origins
…Why live like this?
You sing, though no one listens
You chirp with a little too much vixen, given, the caged animal’s origins
Have we not tired you yet little bird?
Do we need to clip more of your beautiful feathers?
Do you sing, hoping that you will be heard?
Do we need to clip your mouth as we’ve clipped your feathers?
You cry as if we have not done enough for you.
A bird without song is nothing compared to those muzzled and chipped
Nothing but a pitiful songbird that can’t chirp
Have you not grown tired of your caged view?
Knowing that we clipped your wings
Knowing that we want to hear the pretty bird sing…
Sing, sing, sing for us pretty little bird
Let your cries for freedom be heard
I just want you to sing pretty bird
Amuse me, little bird, try to make a symphony with the little sounds you’ve heard
No symphony will earn you my sympathy. I’ve drowned you.
SHOUT 