There once was a bird
that lived all their life
in a perfect cage.
One day, its owner said:
"You're a bit too loud—
it's irritating,"
and set it free.
The bird wished it could speak:
"She always loved my singing;
am I bad at it
now that I'm older?"
It flew a kilometer,
looked back
as its wings started to hurt,
thought about turning around,
missed the perfectly decorated cage.
Flew forward
with breaks in between.
After twenty-something miles,
it stopped looking back.
Stopped missing the cage.
The sky darkened.
Rain fell on wings
not used to flying.
The bird wondered—
"Does knowing me more
lead to loving me less?
Does knowing me more
lead to loving me less?"
But it kept on flying
anyways.
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