A 'Blue' Fable

I glare at the sky
oh, so blue
I still have memories
of the last time I flew.
I had sprawled my feathered flappers
and taken an animate breath
never realising
my freedom was to collide with death.
I was climbing the sky
up, up and so high,
I was not afraid of falling
not afraid to die.
My wings appealed for some rest
my pecker was too baked to reply,
so I landed for some leisure
on dust from the sky.
I nipped atoms of grubs
and drank buckets of scum,
corn, cereal and mote
was soon stored in my tum.
Suddenly I was being hoisted up
fingers blanketed my shape,
my wings dangled and I peeped
I savagely attempted to escape.
I was plunked in an aviary
away from the sun,
away from my tribe
I craved to run.
Now the aviary is my home
and this thought makes me cry,
I have to subsist myself here forever
and here will I die.
My eyes follow all the democratic birds
that aimlessly aviate,
I glare and I glare
and I glare..