Why do caged birds sing songs of meaningful misery? Do the golden ribs of its prison not suit its eyes? Does the bird feel alone, being cooed and adored by giant figures that have imprisoned it? The bird chirps with glee when its door is opened only to realize that it is still trapped within a prison still.
Is this what happens when we attempt to rush into love with broken hearts and heavy minds? We imprison ourselves within these glistening bars that we call someone else’s arms, yet they aren’t golden they just glisten in the sunlight just enough to attract you and make you think everything is alright. All that shines is not golden; all that is golden is not precious. Material things are cherished as if they can elevate the pain that comes with daily routine.
A caged bird is embraced by the sense of freedom. The bird knows that freedom is too far to obtain so it settles for second best. That sense of freedom and the possibility of maybe being free? That’s exhilarating.
Happiness would be easier to achieve if people let go of doubly high standards and settled for the realities in front of them.
Ignorant to the truth in front of each one of us we think we’re trapped within someone deeply rooted carnal cycle.
There is no cycle, just judgmental birds without enough sense to enjoy what’s already in front of them.