A wise man once told me 'tis discipline I lack,
Abandon – you must –
all your whims, your wants, your worthless ways,
Reject all that is foolish.

He gave me a lock as he held the key,
To a cage of unwanted destiny,
“Take this,” he said, “and step inside,”
“Forfeit your wings,
You've no need to fly.”

And slowly I walked to the edge of surrender,
To a slate, iron door – so sleek and so slender.
“No, sir. I won't. I can't do it!” I cried.
But he gave me a push and a laugh and a sigh.
“Now this is your home – it's safe and it's warm.”
And I looked with disgust at my new iron dorm.

Like a maggot I crawled to the cage's end,
To read the cliché of my personal legend.

Predictable. – Average.
Beginning, Middle, End.

But just then I slipped! through a crack in the cage,
And embraced all my passion, my envy and rage.
With trembling hands and fear that I'd fail,
I picked up my pen and I wrote a new tale,

Of a girl in a cage with broken wings,
And a wise man who wasn't really wise.