The Grey Circus

It’s been 368 seconds since the last foot has stepped out of the tent

Now that the onlookers have all pounded the pavement to their warm spaces

Creature of the day and night, how did you end up back here again?

Sitting so still behind your glass case, refusing to look at so many passing faces

This day of work is over now, why don’t you come back to your room?

No one is looking, you can let down your wings

Only mere hours before the curtains go back up and the crowds beam so soon

And become part of the runaway dreamers and spectacle things

Why do tears pass between each viewing of the day?

You should be thankful that our audience is hypnotized by your forever lure

You’re draped in diamonds, what more does a female need to smile and say

“I love being the center of this damn spotlight for sure”

“Birds weren’t made for the iron bars”, she says

“And my wings have been bound to this show for far too long”

“Even the mountains that scream for me are more suitable than this star-studded nest”

The director goes quiet as sirens interfere with their sweet, deadly songs

All the while he was listening to her plead for freedom at last

A prayer was heard in the hidden states of the female minds

Never had she seen a crowbar swing through her case so fast

The sirens made legs just so they could come to the polluted land to find

“Come with us” a thousand voices rang into the cascading darkness of nightfall

In a pin-drop, her role as spectacle was no longer a purpose

The director lie in his pool of blood as the sirens finished their daycall

And at long last, the winged beast fled from the Grey Circus

Love always,

Chayle