The Coup

January 27, 2011
Like a bird she yearned to fly
Fly far, far away.
On her own she longed to be
Locked up in her coup,
A lonely prisoner.
The Coup, a place she called her home,
Imprisons her, locking her wings.
Peeking through windows and
Glancing out doors, if only she could
Fly far, far away.

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