The bird of hermes was my name,
But they ate my wings to make me tame,
They made not tame this bird I was,
And round and round my head they buzzed,
Because I cannot fly today,
My wings were clipped away,
They walk past me now with a kick,
They say "This bird is sick",
But the bird lays here quiet,
This act I know they buy it,
I'm soaking in the shame,
Because this bird is lame.
My clipped wings have healed,
But over have I keeled,
Because that bird whose wings you clipped who sat upon his bed?
That bird you know will never fly because inside he is dead.
He will sit there motionless, a ragdoll for their gain,
Because that bird is powerless against his pain.
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troubles at home have led me to feel like a maid and a servant to my family and I feel trapped. hence the lame bird.