I feel like a caged bird. Not being able to fly is torture, literally. I’ll prove them all wrong, that I don’t belong here by staying out when they open my cage door to let me fly. But in the meantime, I sing.
You may ask why? I’ve heard people say it’s because that’s what birds are made to do. I sing because it makes me feel free. It gives me hope. Although I do not literally sing, for I am not a bird, metaphorically I do sing. For when a bird sings, it does so not realizing that its captor may not want it to. It is, therefore, without meaning to, rebelling.
That is what I do, as well, so to speak. I don’t try to escape. I wait for them to open my cage door so that I may fly again. All the while I am “singing” by remaining in my cage. I sit there passively, eat the bird food they give me so that I may regain my strength, so that I am ready to fly when it’s time. This is how I rebel, I “sing.”