What if you decided to help a poor bird who fell and
was hurt?
The bird was like art, you not ready to part.
You healed and tended to the bird, wanting to set it free once healed.
Once it had healed you could not yield to emotions of wanting to
keep it so you concealed.
Saying you would release is soon or it needed more time.
But between you and the bird, who needed to be released?
But it was toniest too worry, and with the same song and dance
in thinking, really how could your heart be so reest?
Artiste, how could you have been caged by the beast in your painting, like fleece to a modiste.
Oh please, we all know the bird had healed but it is you who hasn't,
you and that bird are caged by emotions.
Emotions so high and wide like the ocean's.
You unable to let go of the notions like an addictive potion.
Till death do us part, you and your devotions.