Cagged Hens- Prison Cell

• Courtney Kovac, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2010

From the day I was born, I was in the prison cell,
never knowing what could be, just living in this hell.
Never feeling the breeze, never seeing sunlight.
Never feeling free enough to get up and take flight.

The throbbing red sores scaring my neck,
the broken bones from a simple peck.
Living life in this twirling black hole,
feeling the stress and losing my soul.

The unheard cries for help,
the echo’s rebounding the saddening yelp.
Masters watching over us like vultures ready to swoop,
we all huddle together afraid of the menacing group.

Crooked and angled, like old bent metal,
we stand and hope as fragile as a petal.
But will help come, is there a point in hope?
How much longer can we cope?

Living each day with anger and frustration,
can we wait and pray for our nation?
To come through and save the day,
or will we continue to not have a say.

From the day I was born, I was in the prison cell,
never knowing what could be, just living in this hell.