I am tired of this cage that I live in.
The cage has a worn, deep entrenched path the traces my
monotonous life. 

The steel, cold bars drive me mad
just thinking that it’s very existence is a reminder that I
cannot escape. 

What I wonder at is that I – I chose it!
Why did I not flee as the others did? I cry insanity.
Why did I accept it’s drab, dull, limiting, hostel
I believe I was too much the mouse and not the lion
the wild lion.

Sometimes my former mates visit, only to serve as a
reminder of why they left. 

They don’t visit for long;it  is the cage. They only want to see the monstrosity
so they might appreciate the freedom much more
I long to release my latent fury. 

To break-even dent the
uniform bars. But no-I must bid my time. I have played the
role of the lamb much too long to suddenly become…
the hawk! So I might soar. 

I am restless, I want hope. A
caretaker peers at me: “You have but a few years, until then
won’t this do.” He turns on a lamp.
Not it won’t; for I want the sun.

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