unfolding

A prison fortressed with walls
and a door with a window
that leads to somewhere.
To choose to leave
or stay hidden behind,
knowing fear exists beyond.

Freedom can be locked up.
Freedom can be set to fly.
I hope, I cry and cheer,
feel a heart-warming sense
that a caged-bird can sing and dream.
So why shouldn’t I?

RED: I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice.
Shawshank Redemption

Poetry

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