Each day I wake up to the sharp smell of hand sanitizer.

I lay upon a sterile cot, a powdered blue gown 

tied around my neck and waist.

I gaze at the fluorescent white ceiling panels.  

Thick leather straps twist around my bony wrists and ankles.

I writhe uncomfortably, waiting for my freedom.

Although, it never comes. 

The only freedom I have is within the hearts of the birds. 

Every morning, I watch the intricately feathered creatures 

slice through rays of the morning sun. 

Their silhouettes cast shadows onto my blank, barren walls.

Their bodies make elaborate shapes that decorate my room. 

As I touch their shadows, the birds whisper secrets to me. 

They tell me to keep dreaming of a life beyond these walls.

When the birds fly away, I am left with only my thoughts. 

So, I stare at the eggshell white walls and dream.