The birds chirped nonstop,
in my backyard.
They were caged,
and yet one little one felt unsafe.

It fell off its nest,
and couldn't fly.
Helpless, it became the scorn,
of others eye.

I picked it up,
held it close to my bosom.
I felt its little heart, rapid.Poor soul.

My father,
picked it off my hand.
And snapped at me,
"stop crying".
It has to go, that's what life is.

And into the garbage it went,
in the corner of our kitchen.