I would like to sing the song of a caged bird. Flap my wings up high and open them tot he sky and soon after flutter back down. I wish I could sing as sharp as a caged bird, piercing through your eardrums waiting for deliverance to come.
Teach me your song sweet neighbor. Or would you rather have mine.
My silent raging confusion for your needles flapping of wings. My frustrated restlessness for your tiresome motions.
I’d rather sing your song sweet bird and give you the glass walls and mirrors I keep crashing into.

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