Walked in circles colored with my blood.
Dug a crimson rut.                                   Clueless to the way the ground was lowering beneath me.
Looking right,
Looking left,                  Looking down,                  Looking up,
All those birds,
Flying above me.                                                I wanted to be up there.
At the time, I hadn’t noticed
A door not far away,
I’d been too busy begging them to let me out.
One day, I got curious,
And looked around the place I was raised.
The golden handle appeared
I twisted the knob, and hobbled away.
I became free.
Left to wonder if that handle had been there all along.