Entitlement


My elbows hit the bars
and my nerves, they cry
each feather softly tickles my toes
as my wings make the trip back to my sides.

I rest here,
thinking of being content with the daily embrace
of the cage around me, safe
from the pain of movement

The sun shoots into my lids, exploding streaks of grey clouds
in my eyes and falling softly on my lashes.
My head cocks to the right, slightly towards the floor but,
the rays strike no matter where my head turns so I return to the position I was first placed in
appeased by the familiarity

There's fruit by my dull and less used nails, they bring it every morning
I can hear each time the door opens but,
I hate the sound of moving so I close opportunity with my beak, the fruit rots and my elbows hit the bars
And my nerves, they cry to the tune of their song,

"Your wings will never learn how to fly"

And so I knew that I hated
Moving.

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