Beautiful music

Clad in mournful waves

Exude from the pitch black beak

Of a tiny, fragile bird

Captured in a large, gangly cage



Deprived of the sweet taste of freedom

The wings which once gleamed golden

In the rising sun

Have withered to gray



The once strong breast

Which had filled with fresh, untainted air

Now takes in stale breaths

From this dimly lit room



This bird had been so strong and proud

Trilling its beautiful song

From the tall tree tops

Filling the air with joy and leaure to all who heard



Many ears drank in the sound

Some, longing for it constantly

Driven by all consuming greed

One took this bird by surprise



Snatching it away

Breaking its will to fly

Shoving it in a cage

Killing its soul



Now laden with grief

Wings no longer able to beat

And life it high up above the trees

Free



The same quality of beauty

Still consits in its melody

Yet the inspiration is no longer one of beauty

But one of- deprivience, depression and death