Cages of steel and stone made especially for birds of trimmed wings, who have long ago forgotten that they can even fly. Long, raised beaks that block their view and heavy curved nails that nail them to the ground so they can only walk, and sometimes skip, not knowing that they could be tucked away among the pearly clouds. Dark birds, colourful birds, white birds, transparent birds, loud birds and quiet ones too, they all feel an itchy emptiness in their breast, not realising that the answer lies in their now self trimmed wings. The falcons, eagles and owls fly above them with nonchalance and might, with a freedom they claim to offer but never truly deliver, for the other birds are their prey. So the caged birds look at them and dream and hope and think that one day, if they keep their nails on the floor and their beaks high, then one day they too will become a bird of prey, flying free among the others, looking down on all the ones that were too weak or too unworthy to become like them. But that never happens. Only the ones that stop trimming their own wings are the ones that get a chance to soar.