The Bird

A bird is in her cage with shining new silver bars,
At first she sang as she had not realised that she had been trapped,
A prisoner of her vows.
Now she has no voice, no house, no choice.
Her strong wings have been clipped-
And her wild ways tamed.
Her once bright eyes now are plain,
Cold and dead and empty she sits waiting,
In her lifeless cage.

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