my bird-call, chirrup chirrup - the bird cage is too small, can't you see?

like plath and hughes - but my head's not heading for the oven. she needed a rebirth, hughes, couldn't you tell?

trapped, in all her materiality - and in mine.

my mind's a-flying, and you soberly complain about my artificiality, my inability to bare my soul.

your cage is far too small.