Mind whirling, sorrow growing, I write…

Mind whirling, sorrow growing, I write in my JOURNAL, telling myself “birds aren't meant to be caged, they need a TREETOP to SAIL on the wind to”. Waterfall tears flow but I continue , “Their feathers are just too bright, REFLECTIVE of their free spirit” And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty now that they're gone.

Story and concept was inspired by @Manncy and his creation: