she is perfectly fine with the hands that rest around her throat.
she is just peachy with the cotton around her eyes.
she was told her vocal chords were used for mimicking the starling's song.
though I don't live in open fields,
I can see that you live within a cave
the cold stone brushes your tender pale nose
and the rough stalagmites carress the backs of your legs.
you are hemmed in, night and day and in between.
permanent power outtage.. did you realize?
you say you're warm and cozy,
just where you'd want to be..
how can you know?
oh you who cannot recall the light of day
or the cool winter's breeze.
you hide beneath the flesh of your mother's heart
and within the confines of your father's logic.
you stay within this comfort
this familiar cage.
you thank your jailor, you praise his god.
you take his food when it is offered,
never dreaming of pushing away..
afterall, this is the best--the only way.
you have never walked the ridge of chaos
and you have never gazed into the eyes of hatred.
you scarcely know of what species debate could be..
"here in america, we all hold the same truths"
you are a perfectly blank page
and you've convinced yourself that you are full of intelligent words.
do you know why they kept you inside?
all those years ago.. when the other kids ran and screamed and played?
of course not.
you don't understand the motives
you cannot comprehend the reasons
that would force such treason to be inflicted upon you.
yet.. it can't be treason... can it?
this treason.. this arson of the mind,
its roots are comprised of fear
and confusion
of a misguided, perhaps well-meaning, individual..
"good intentions pave the road to hell,"
nevertheless...
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