cagesong

inches  
of mesh  
my continent,  
pinches  
of flesh  
my discontent.  
my walls refuse  
to kill me,  
my falls bemuse  
and thrill thee.  
i dash against  
the ceiling,  
such high restraints  
me reeling;  
hoping,  
one day,  
to findflight-rest,  
moping  
dismay  
my night-time test.
birdcage abuse  
distills me  
of all the muse  
that fills me;  
a narrow path  
my broadway,  
a bloody bath  
the hard way.  
verses  
that long  
to make me sing—  
curses  
(no song)  
to me they bring!  
nighttime, shades drawn,  
consumes me,  
ere cruel new dawn  
exhumes me.  
a foreign world  
with pity  
peeps at my cold  
cage-city;  
treatise  
of hope—  
my featherbed  
—fleeces  
the rope  
that chokes me dead.  
wisdom  
keeps sound  
my sanity  
freedom  
confounds  
thy vanity.  
 
© Copyright 2020 June 29  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫