The songbird’s notes are stifled Hidden by the bars of the cage, Songs that should be of beauty Are nothing but screams of rage. His feathers once full of luster Have lost their magnificent hue, But you don’t see the shade of drab, As master you haven’t a clue. The bars keep him physically imprisoned And you control what he sings, A heart once joyous and lyrical Now broken as you clipped his wings.
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