They kept the bird caged,
Afraid that if she touched the sky,
The wind would carry her too far away,
And she would never find her way back home.
But to the little bird,
The cage was never protection.
It was a reminder—
A reminder of every pain
She was trying to outrun.
She wanted to fly away,
So her mind would not win its endless battle against her heart.
So she would not learn to hate
The place she once called home.
But they kept her caged,
Waiting for the right time.
The bird kept flapping her wings,
Believing that one day
They would understand her longing—
To learn,
To fly above the clouds,
To find her own way back home.
But they kept her caged,
Waiting for the right time.
She chirped and chirped,
And beat her wings against the bars,
Trying to make them hear
What she could never make them understand.
Her chirping became background noise,
And her wings grew tired.
So one day,
She stopped chirping.
She stopped flapping.
Waiting...
Waiting for the right time
They always spoke of.
And then one day,
All the wings she had folded away,
All the skies she had dreamed of,
All the years she had spent waiting—
Broke the cage apart.
And she flew.
Higher than she had ever imagined.
Farther than anyone expected.
But this time,
She was not searching for the road back home.
She flew so far
That even if she missed home,
Home could never reach her.
The place she left behind
No longer felt like home.
It felt like a prison of misunderstanding and judgement.
The place that taught her
That her chirping was a noise,
And her dreams were dismissed as foolish illusions.
The place that never noticed
Her bleeding wings.
The place that only looked up
When she was already gone.