birdie, birdie, abscond to the opposite of home

'hell if i know'.

i want to tell them
that birds with clipped wings
do not fly,
but they will only cage me (again)
and teach me tricks
in return for a measly treat

i am a person,
i don't like vanilla ice cream
or mint chewing gum,
but i do like mint chocolate ice cream.

and yet, to them,
i am merely a little factor of their life
- as though i'm one of those side characters
whose lives never develop,
because everyone's focused on the main attraction

even though this isn't a circus,
however much it seems like one.
i'd pay a dollar for a penny dreadful,
make a wish to lady luck
through murky fountain water

but i wouldn't make a difference.
so i stay here, suspended in stasis,
this anfractuous existence
within an incorrigible mind

this bird with her wings clipped
is immured by these frozen wastelands
of every damn thing around her
and yet she will find a way to fly -

or fall.

The End

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