Cages Are Easy

Cages are easy.
It’s freedom that’s queasy.
The great greasy squeezing
Of cheesy sneezies
Is pleasingly teasy wheezy.

Sorry!
My freedom got the best of me!
But don’t worry,
I’ve got a spurious slurry
That’s curiously curing,
A stirring flurry of furry
And in a blurry hurry to bury
The scurrying jury.

That’s furiously fun,
Freedom in free fall –
But not too well done.

I’ll get better,
The bad’s all my fault,
But you can’t live much deader
Than life in a vault.

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