You asked if I feel free as a bird.

Frankly, I found the question absurd

I take flight not for joy of leaving

But through instinct, the push to survive

I’m skittish; it’s what keeps me alive.

I truly don’t want to want to leave

But I’m too prey to receive reprieve.

See, I feel edible as a bird

I am plucked by and plucked from my nest

Call me chicken if you think it best.