Cages
Everyone grows up in a cage.
Some are rather nice
And we think of it as a home.
Later on, you’re given a key
And are free to come and go,
Unaware of the invisible bars
That enclose you wherever you go.
Enclosed, you’ll raise a batch of your own.
Some, on the other hand, are broken,
Become shabby and run down
Because there isn’t enough money
And it’s just you, the girls, and mom.
There aren’t any keys to this cage
For the latch has rusted closed.
You know you’re stuck here.
Everyone else knows too.
You’re like the tigers in the zoo,
Existing to be watched,
Inured to the gaze.
Some people try to leave
But you can’t break free
From these kinds of cages.
No matter how much
Your mind expands
You run out of space.
Your flesh just presses deeper
Against surprisingly resilient bars.
And your tongue can only taste
The icy metallic bitterness of rust.
This is the miraculous place
You grudgingly learn to trust
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