Whirling, tumbling, rolling thoughts,
My head is reeling, my mind is seething.
Unsteadily living, uneasily moving,
The world is spinning, hard is my breathing.
It’s damn hard to think and harder to write.
When mi vida loca is my crazy life;
When my life is almost nothing.
And I am surrounded by angry strife.
All I want is to be let out,
Set free so I can fly out on my own.
But all that happens is I am kept caged,
Locked away, “safe” in my parents’ home.
I have discovered why caged birds sing,
Whey they sound so wistful in the morn.
Not because they love their lives,
But between cage and sky, they are torn.