Clipped

The wings have been clipped, the freedom has been curbed.

The bird has been caged, not a sound anyone heard.

All that remains as evidence of something that-once-was,

Is a free-falling feather, slowly flittering across.

It falls on the ground, gets soaked in the wet mud.

The epitome of the biggest breakage, and not even a thud.

A freedom lost, a spirit broken, a heart that's down in despair.

The world goes on, and so does life, for no one seems to care.

Until next time…