River gushes over land.
Rock breaking and bending its path, like a heart, is molded by the hands of a proper loved one.
Except it’s not.
The hands of the provider are vicious.
A sheep to the world, yet a wolf underneath. A bright light on the outside, yet a darkness behind doors.
The water keeps running, its hold weary against the control of the rocks. It pushes and pulls, trying to get away from them, only to end up heading towards the same path once again.
It’s as if the water were a bird and the rocks its only cage.
The only resistance keeping the bird from spreading its wondrous wings and flying out into the night is the cage of which keeps the fearful bird flightless and heartlessly tethered to
the ground it so gratefully walked upon in the beginning; when it looked like the most beautiful flower and its front seemed to hold all of the birds greatest desires.
The bird, an innocent creature of now the cage, ruthlessly fell for the heart of the cages greatest features,
never bothering to find its darkness within before taking its first step and sliding right into its traps.
Alone, the bird now lays, left to realize it was in truth blinded by the glory of the cages grief.
It now, taken hostage for the cage to feed its fury and frustrations to, weeps to fly.
Still, in spite of the bird feeling belittled and damaged beyond repair, it stays.
And although the bird has tried to run away before, it fears the cages life will spiral if it leaves.
Thus, the bird waits, and weeps in the shadowed parts of the cages harsh words.
Waits, for the cages next face of fury to take over so it can come out to perform its job of pleasing the cage once again.
for someone to come out of the darkness and pull its hurting body into the outer ring of its land because the bird is far too tired to walk itself out of the hell hole it once walked
Waits, for the cage to become happy once again.