You don’t sing, nor do you move-
Just a metal statue covered in pink enamel,
You sit in your cage without complaint.
I can’t say I’m jealous, but it seems your beauty will last,
While I grow older, wiser, and, eventually senile.
But I can envy you,
For your cage is bigger than mine.
I’ve close to outgrown it, the bars are edging closer,
As my troubles grow in number, so does my cage shrink.
I can barely breathe and it’s hard to sing anything while I sit here and watch you,
Talking to you even though you won’t reply.
But that’s okay- I don’t care.
I can’t open the door and so many hold its key.
I’ll be out of here someday, even though there’s a small chance anyone will free me.
But that’s okay. I don’t really care.