Romans & histoires Book Review Of I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

I tilted my neck to find the room empty. I breathed out and collapsed on the floor with hot tears trailing down on my cheeks which I never knew I held. They say a caged bird remains in the cage no matter how much it tries to fly away with its broken wings. It will always remain weak, broken and shackled. And here I was the one. All broken, numb and destroyed. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you like it. Thoughts so far?

The bird was naïve, thought she could fight against the world which was trapping her. She did not obtain visible scars from that faithful day, only the bars. The bars were her scars to remind her she was nothing, but a caged bird bonded to her master.

My heart was thumping furiously after I jumped out of the window of the burning hospital ward. I had promised my father that I would try my best to protect my mother. However, not only had I not managed to protect my mother, but I had also not managed to protect my father’s grave. I turned back and looked at the fire. At least, this fire would reveal the truth about Zac. The hospital fire was sensational news online. All colleagues were attacking Zac for freezing the account on purpose.

"Do not say that. Do not ever say that." "Why not?" Elowen asked. "It is the truth. I would rather die free than live in a cage, even if that cage has silk sheets and a king who thinks he is protecting me." "You think you are the only one in a cage?" Corvin asked, his voice breaking. "I am king of an empire I cannot control, surrounded by nobles who plot my death, bound by Crown Sight that shows me a thousand futures where everything I love turns to ash. I do not have freedom either, Elowen. I have duty and responsibility and the weight of a crown that will crush me if I make one wrong choice."

Lily took off her glasses, but her face was still full of pleasure. "But this book, The Caged Bird and the Lion, is just magnificent. Even though it's fiction, the descriptions of Mafia family life are so real, it's like the author lived it." Lorenzo scoffed. "Boring fantasies. What do those writers know about the Mafia?" He reached for a file, but his eyes were drawn to the book Lily had placed on the table. The pages were open to a drawing of a white bird imprisoned in a golden cage, with a majestic lion standing outside.

—, but it was sad still because I considered myself a fast reader. The book might be the issue. It was so..... boring. When I picked it from the library, I had thought I was going to be reading a fictional story about the bird, but all I kept seeing were more and more historical facts. It felt like a mini history textbook. Except about a bird. I developed a sudden fascination with the bird as I read and I couldn't really point out why. Maybe because the Phoenix was an enduring symbol of resilience and renewal. Never bested my hardship or defeated by death, the Phoenix was the ultimate icon of hope and rebirth.

I can't burden Mom. [June 7th, 2013. Sunny.] [I saved three months of my part-time wages to buy Christina a necklace, but she didn't like it. Next time, I'll earn more money and buy her something better.] I kept flipping until the last page, which was the day before I went to prison. [December 1st, 2017. Rain.] There was only one sentence. [They never loved me.] … At that moment, my eyes burned. I picked up a pen and began to write again.

His tone was calm and seemingly pleasant. But they were smarter, the men. They knew that not too deep beneath the calm, laid an cruel storm. "Do you know what a caged bird does the moment it has been let out of its cage?" He asked no one in particular as his slender fingers fondled the vicious looking, pet eagle nesting on his armrest. Everyone held their tongues and kept their silence. It wasn't from ignorance though, but pure fear. The Master continued. "It savours every feel of freedom it had lost, loses track of time....and eventually might chose to remain in the raw pleasures of the wild over the comfort of its cage."

"You've become so cold and heartless. You'd better pray Ian pulls through, or you'll be prepared to feel guilty for the rest of your life." His words were like a pair of hands crushing my heart. My heart ached. He was right—those five years in prison had hardened me. But could I afford not to harden? Prison turned people into demons. Those who were soft-hearted were prey. When I first arrived, my small frame made me a target: beaten, humiliated, forced to kneel, my palms burned by cigarette butts, my legs broken by rebar. Covered in wounds, I was still forbidden to eat. I had to satisfy the twisted demands of certain big guys in there. I lived like a dog in a world without daylight. Any resi