Behind
These gilded bars
Of a golden cage
You keep me
As your canary bird.
In the mistaken belief
You're protecting
A fragile
And weak creature.
Expecting me
To be
Your little bird
Of happiness.
Warbling
Sweet melodies
Of love.
Never mind
My soul is
Filled with sad songs
Of the blues.
As depression
Sets in.
Wishing
To spread out
My wings.
Upon
A gentle Spring breeze
With the other birds
In finding
My true love.
Instead
My emaciated body
Barely
Hangs there
Upon the perch.
Waiting for
Death's arrival
And release.
Knowing
You'll never understand
Why I need this
Mom.
Therisa © 2016
Author's note: A metaphor, for the relationship, with my mom.
