You in the gilded cage

by Steven Kenny

Wednesday 9th November 2011 9:09 pm

You sit and you sing

in your gilded cage.

watching with wary eyes

as I sit on the sill outside,

cold and huddled down;

just a dirty, downtrodden pigeon.

Nothing like you.

 

Chirping for attention

and the lies you're fed,

you dare to judge.

Sing that success

is a cage like yours.

Scoff that I choose instead

to be outside in the cold.

 

But I say the joke is on you,

my feathered friend.

You may sit and you may sing

but I can fly away, to find my own way.

Feel the sun on my face,

not the reflection

from a gilded cage.