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The poet knew why caged birds sing but I know why caged women cry.
They cry for their broken spirit, for their dreams destroyed. They cry for the love they never had, for a daughter or a son long gone. They cry for the hope that never came, for their helplessness. Or maybe, they cry for their downfall. In some lucid moment, they glimpse what has been, what could have been.
Confined to the illusions of their treacherous mind, they are lost in confusion.
And while caged birds sing, women cry in their imaginary cage, not seeing the open door.

5 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt 3 months ago

    Heartbreaking. I particularly love the final denouement which finishes off the drabble beautifully. Excellent stuff Frenchie.

  • avatar

    Frenchie 3 months ago

    Thank you, Neville. It means a lot to me.

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn 2 months ago

    I'm not ashamed to say I had a lump in my throat when I got to the end of this.(It also reminded me of a couple of quotes - John Milton's "the mind is it's own place and in itself can create a Hell of Heaven, a Heaven of Hell" and Michael Moorcocks “Is the prisoner a prisoner because he lives in a cage or because he knows that he lives in a cage?”

  • avatar

    Frenchie about 1 month ago

    Thank you, Drew. I never heard of Michael Moorcoks (I know, appalling, hehehe), so, I shall check him out.

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn about 1 month ago

    Well worth a look at Frenchie, if you give him a go I hope you enjoy :)

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