The Cage

What is this cage
that keeps me inside?
Is it made of my fear?
Is it made of my pride?
No matter what made it
the cage has to go.
Because if it doesn't
then I 'll never know
what it is to live, laugh and love,
if I'm able to achieve
what I dream of.
It I put it there,
then why can't I see
how to destroy it,
spread my wings and break free.
It's such a sad thing
this prison of art.
It was built to protect
not to restrain my heart.
I know I can't stay.
I dream everyday
of tearing it open
and breaking away.
Maybe it's fear
or maybe it's doubt
that keeps the bars near
and the complex world out.
My heart is crying
and this I now know:
I want to be free
and I want to let go.
So I pick at the cage
with my hopes and my dreams.
The structure is not
as strong as it seems.
One by one
the bars disappear
as the past falls away
and the future draws near.