First one.

I’m held down by thin chains of glittering silver. I finally did it. I stopped straining long enough to sing you a song, to pour out my heart to you. You’d waited so long for that. And your hands reached for the chains. I flew prematurely. Before you’d even finished I had spread my wings; my body buoyed up by relief, I tried to flee the hurt that was threatening to strike me down. But with a snap I was pulled back. You’d only released one chain. The other yanked at my foot, the silver cutting into my veins, and my relief came crashing down around my fluttering wings. I don’t know if you even noticed you still haven’t let me go, let me go. Can’t you see? Your bird is trying to fly away.