I don't know

I don’t know what you want from me

br

ok

en

record spinning and spinning, 

my wings are clipped shut

and my song that s

tarted out clear

is now warbled and sick, 

tired of crying for help. 

I speak when you tell me to,

I fly when you look. 

Yet still I am stuck here,

in this cage, with these wings,

with this voice,

and somehow I cannot speak out. 

This is to

help me, 

to save me,

to bring me to peace.

Then why does it feel

like I will never get out of this place?