The green field of life

Grass as lush as the greenest of green,
I stand in the middle,
watching as the birds preen,
on the large tree they sit.

Looking down at me,
one of them,
the biggest,
his feathers puffed in pride,
the others sitting away you see.

They keep their distance as he pecks at his feathers,
not minding other birds squabbling,
three birds,
bobbling.

I’m stuck where I stand,
hands holding a bag,
one that seems to sag,
It's weight dragging it down.

but here I stand,
watching this bird,
it blinks,
I watch until a third.

Chest heavy over my heart,
such wings I would like to have,
never truly using them for bad,
only freedom in sight.

looking up as he looks down,
beady dark eyes,
No good brewing.

Using its freedom for bad,
inside,
gone mad

Yet here I stand,
just there,
like an animal within a snare

Yet if i leave,
there is no return, only the dark beyond the green,
no matter how tempted I am