Guilty! I tried taming the wild..

I once got a bird for myself. It was drawn to me as much as I was to it.
Inseparable we were, through each mood and each weather
We spent all the waking hours together;
Saw each other through sun and through rain; through joy and through pain.
The lows were ugly but splendid were the highs
Those sorries made us forget the smiles and in goods we forgot the sighs
It was all hunky dory until in a fight it lost a feather
There was blood and were tears, inaudible screams and fears
My bird must have been hurt bad for it cried unconsolably for untold nights,
looking at other free birds and their unbound flights
I wouldn’t let go for we were tied with a tether
A frail little string held on to the love that once was better

It was difficult to judge which needed more support, the bird, me or the strained tether
We were in this tiff when a very precious part of our lives passed us by
Our love was mutual (or so I thought). My ego told me one story and reflection told another.
It wasn’t easy to turn away and walk off – for I had given a part of me in love.
Only later I realised I had made a deal like a smart businesswoman and taken an equal share off it too.
After a few first fun days I started to feel and need it’s presence more than before.
Each day I felt it belonged to me more than to anyone else, it belonged more to me than to its own self.
Shiny blue feathers and the skin a ravishing golden beige
It was a beautiful bird and I liked flaunting it, keeping all the credit to myself.
It was only just for I would make it comfortable, arrange its food, even clean its cage
Pulling on to my collar each day I was falling more in love with the success of my bird than with the soul in it.

My love became pride and pride became spite and spite became rage
It was still just for I would make it comfortable, arrange its food, bear with the chatter and even clean the cage
My poor little innocent bird became weaker in happy days and got aggressive even in squabbles
I wish I had a clearer mirror for I could only still see myself as the sage.
From where I stood it was all hunky dory until it lost a feather
It cried and longed freedom, separation, but gave in to my weak pleas,
Only to get stronger, fiercely protective of it’s space, as one after another it kept loosing feathers
It lost feathers and the fervour, the songs were weak squeaks and the flamboyant flights were drowsy hops
My bird as I loved is no more and the blood is on my hands
I am not an honest lover, I’m just a smart trader; I traded my love filled days for pride and for ego
Am I even a smart trader?
If I could, I would let go so I could be free.