The Cyclic Nature of a Bird

A bird flies in many directions

North, south, east, west

A bird flies in various frequencies

Hours, days, weeks, months

A bird develops through many stages

Laying, hatching, nestling, fledging

The cyclic nature of a creature is driven by biology

Birth, growth, reproduction, death

Circadian, circannual cycles

Internal, external clocks

Birth, growth, reproduction, death

Migrate, build, foster, feed

Innate, instinctive, carful, fundamental

I am a bird not driven by fate

I am a bird not driven by night

I am a bird with no chains to hold me

Yet no wings to fly, eternal inertia

I am a bird not driven by cycle

Not driven by instinct, eternally thoughtful

Thoughtful yet impulsive, calm yet anxious,

I am unfamiliar with the cyclic nature of a bird

A bird will plan, a bird will try

A bird will ****, a bird will fly

A bird will lay, a bird will hatch

A bird will feed, a bird will die

I am not bound by such cycles

I am a “free creature” yet I am chained to my misfortune

I will always return to the one who cut my wings

It is my nest, I’ll ignore the hurting

A nest full of blood, about to collapse

Attempt to rebuild it, reenter the trap

Any other bird would migrate to another home,

Another hemisphere, a new location to roam

It packs up its things and travels by flock

Then returns when its ready, and has carefully thought

Repeating in cycles, it lives by these rules

I am unfamiliar with the cyclic nature of a bird

I will always repeat my pointless same routine,

Lying with the heartless creature which once was my lover, in a stale molding home

With a knife in my back, and scars from my wings

I will stay inert and still, starve by my own will

How it would all be fixed if I could fly out by my own

If I had a flock and a new place to call home

I would benefit greatly, I think that’s what I need

To live on my own, to discover what’s real

No obligation to her, all respects to me,

A desire to live, explore, and be free

The feeling of freedom which I was born to chase

It is in my instincts, it is part of my place

As great as it sounds, as obvious as it seems,

I will never achieve it,

As I am unfamiliar with the cyclic nature of a bird