Parole

We live in the cages we built ourselves

where we sliced our wings 

and dyed to the society's chosen hue,

so we could fit in the little metal barrier

we welded by our own hands.

Then we complain why we are suffocated,

why the spaces is small for our frame.

We hide ourselves under the cover 

and shake when love is mentioned

like we don't have any for ourselves.

The society feed what our mouth and mind speak

but we dictate what we hear inside

It's okay to have a different shade of color,

a rougher and smoother texture.

It's okay to be a free bird once in a while,

to unlock the cage and fly,

It's okay to go past the limits,

to build a larger place and breathe.

You'd have doubts of what's beneath the jail 

but birds fall and get pushed

before they soar up high. 

You hold the key use it before it gets rusty.