Not Made for the Cage

A star with a different hue, I am true.
I was made to outgrow you.
The room is full of polished faces, oh,
Their smiles in perfect places.
I move like rain run down glass, a little shy,
A little brash.
My mind is a sprawling tide with secret currents locked inside.
And when the night begins to bloom,
I am the fever in your room.
And I hear beneath the noise some soft and ancient choice.
Hey, young child, don't disappear.