These chains surround me.
Lighter than air,
But rooted like a tree.
They push and press.
They block my way.
I push back nonetheless.

I’m stuck, immobile.
Demons crowd around my ankles,
But I crawl on with head held high and noble.
I drown in my own sorrow,
But I’m too headstrong to quit.
I’m hoping for a better tomorrow.

I am a sad, pathetic little thing,
But don’t you dare pity me!
This broken bird has got to find her wings.