The Prisoner

Her heart is stone,

Her words are wicked,

Her actions evil.

Though she is free, she is captured in her own mind, enslaved in her own heart,

A prisoner of her own mentality.

She is an owner of a bird.

The bird though in the cage sings it's own humble song,

It has hope in its heart,

And it's song is beautiful,

It's wing's have not felt the flow of wind beneath them,

But it longs to fly,

Fly a flight of freedom.

With goodness in its heart the bird would spread joy to good people if only it had a chance. 

Then one day,

She, the owner, was unmasked for all to see,

Her wicked ways were revealed, 

her deceit was no more,

Returning home in her anger she threw the cage to the ground,

wept and pulled at her hair,

Still her every breath was one of hate though she was powerless.

The small cage door had opened,

The bird unscathed hopped out grateful for it's escape,

Never a prisoner.

Within lies freedom and now at the ledge of an open window it ruffled it's feathers and flew out.