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You can hear her singing bright and early at the crack of dawn. It’s not that people don’t like her singing, it’s just that she wakes light sleepers up; they curse and close their windows and doors to block her voice from entering the room. Then there are times when all the kids gather around to hear her sing. Her sweet sweet singing voice. And sometimes to marvel at her beauty, her colors, and her tiny little claws. Even those cursing her in the morning can’t help but fall in love. She’s quite a charmer. Her songs sometimes sound fastpaced, loud, frustrated, like in the mornings but then as the day passes calm down, become quite with a tone which only those with a broken heart could understand. Others her kind envy her. Her breakfast, lunch, and dinner always served, her bowl of water always filled. She never has to go out and look for the next meal, next worm, next nest to spend the night in. Oh no, this is a lucky little bird. Little do they know how sad and alone she is. Caged in. Birds are born to spread their wings and fly, sour freely in the sky, enjoy the view from mighty high. Every morning she fights to be freed, she beats her wings against the bars, runs from one corner to another for someone to let this door open so she could finally once again do what she was born to do, to be free. Yet each day passes and no one ever comes to her rescue. All day long she stares at the sky, longing to be with it again, envying every bird that passes in her sight. Everyday she dies a little on the inside but she keeps on believing. Every night she hopes for a better day singing her blues hoping maybe, just maybe, it would touch someone’s heart enough to let her fly free. Until then, no one knows why a caged bird sings.