Those Choking Hands

She was
being choked
by the restrictions
of those hands,
those lying hands
that told her
she was free,
told her she
could spread
her wings
and fly.
She couldn't
see through their
lies until it
was too late;
too late to
turn back.
It was a
constant battle
to try to
breathe; to
try to let
the wind
brush past
her feathers.
In the end,
it was her
thirst,
her want
for freedom,
that burned
those hands,
that cast them
away, like shedding
her skin.
And she flew
away, leaving
behind the
binding chains
that kept her
from spreading
her wings.

~~~~~
meh, not a favorite poem of mine, but I'm just writing from a character's perspective ((as usual)), who actually has wings, so I guess this poem's not all that metaphorical :3

~Mason