In my jewel-encrusted cage, two songbirds sing, but not in harmony.
Solemn dirges and shrieking accusations
keep me from sleep or silent contemplation.
Why not let them fly free?
They will not leave.
They know not how to live out of captivity,
in a land of icy stares and treeless streets.
They shriek and cry, and I, I know no solace for we three.
We feed on stale crusts, dipped in champagne
so bubbly.
There’s not much else to say.
In these sleepless hours
I learn new dancesteps
timed to familiar refrains.



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