Maybe tomorrow I can get out of this box and be free.

Day by day, night by night, I sit and wait

to finally see the light of day.  The chirps of my family.

Maybe tomorrow I can catch my food again.

The little bowl of water sits in the corner, 

sitting still all day long.  Food comes every six hours.

The highlight of my day is seeing my owner.

Maybe tomorrow I can flap my wings again and be free.

Chirping with joy; flying through the trees.

Oh, how nice that sounds, right about now.

Maybe tomorrow my feathers will stay on. 

Feathers fall off like the petals on his dead flower.

The little peephole in the box looks out at the flower pot.

Maybe tomorrow I can feel again and make a nest.

Maybe tomorrow I can fly in the strong winds.

Maybe tomorrow I can feel normal.

Maybe tomorrow I will be free again.

Maybe tomorrow has been my thought for three years.