Growing up

A poem written long ago, talking of being free and young, and the pain of growing up

I was a bird, flying high,
I flew among the lofty skies
Free, soaring, reeling,
On the wind, my wings did glide

Yes, I was free,
No one could touch me
Calling, singing, serenading,
Joy was all that I could see

Then, I was caught,
My freedom was all for naught
Struggling, screaming, shrieking.
Wings now clipped, cropped.

Grounded, I am not free
No longer am I me
Hurting, crying, dying,
I exist, but do I want to be?

I was a bird, yes, me
Once I was free
Now, all is gone,
Including my song