If only I was a caged bird
I would have woke up to see the bars
And through them, the longing sky,
The tattooed horizon copulating with the universe.
There would have been a purpose in my life
The freedom I would have been hungry for
The clipped feathers I would have cried over
Seen through the deceitful lies of my captor
And identified the fakeness of my visitors.
The genuine nonsense of the hours of socializing
The generosity of those few lonely hours
The luxury of being at peace with myself
Pathetic living of life for the sake of life alone.
Sometimes, half-baked liberation
Is torturous than being a slave.
I’m said to be in a sanctuary of sorts
I’m assured to be protected from the wild
I’m instructed that there is no destiny
I’m ordered to forget the existence of my volition
I can’t rubbish these tagged safeguards
And call them absurd, instead,
I’m taught to believe that I can’t fly.