My Window Was The Filter

Used to look out the window.
Used to see the trees.
Saw the clouds go real slow,
The leaves felt the breeze.

The birds I heard.
The songs they sang.
Everything Melodious.
In my mind they hang.

I was still a child.
My curiosity all wild.
The serenade I heard,
Maybe the tree or the bird.
Now grown up,
The nature there died.
The window held a view,
But the scene was new.
Where there stood a tree,
Now stands a pole
Rabbits died out,
Came the motors.
The songs I heard,
Now I hear horns.
Smoke came in,
the nature faded out.

Mostly now imprisoned,
The now settled in cages.
They don’t sing anymore,
They will be cuffed for ages.

Their feathers cut out.
The monsters own them.
Took it for granted they,
They play with their lives.

I lived in the lie.
My window was the filter.
It showed me the false.
The gold covered the glitter.

 

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