"I remember you were telling me about them long ago." He continues on unperturbed, gesturing to the bird that sits idly in the cage, inviting you to take a closer look. "Their melodies were quite nice." 
"Right..." You wince at the memory. 
It's like a distant dream to you now, one that you had wanted to forget, despite having clung to you for all your life, itself a hell comparable to this one. They had circled in the skies overhead, up and and away from it all, freer than any other within that world.
Yet now like you, it too appears to have strayed a long way from such, to be trapped in the confines of this cage. 
But they've had a taste of freedom. To you, it has been nothing more than a wishful dream, eyes having been set upon those same skies. Perhaps to be made of human flesh was a curse, chained down by a nightmarish world who denies such dreams. 
He had found you then. 
As to you, who hadn't seen a world beyond these skies, trapped in a cold hellhole that housed nothing but the vain and cruel beings you cannot bring yourself to embrace — he had appeared as your saving grace. A guardian angel almost, wings of purest white flaring out behind him, and eyes of the brightest living gold that had left you transfixed as he spun such sweet promises from his lips.
It's what he intends, to leave you clinging to his words, enraptured by his being, to take you someplace safe forever. 
Somewhere where no other hands can ever be laid upon you, nor any eyes cast upon you except his own. Because when you look at him so hopefully, as if he is truly some divine being — one that had descended from these far reaching heavens you had once looked up towards amid a starless sky, he ensures he is the only god you believe in. 
Alas, gods too could be selfish. You crave freedom amid the skies, yet he wants nothing but to cling to you, to treasure as his own, first and foremost. Insincerity frames such promises, faltering momentarily in its partial truth — yet you had taken his hand willingly that day, believing him to be your saviour from this cruel world.  
But not for the next, the one you now stand upon with him as your captor. Too late, do you realise you've merely traded one cage for another — and now you're alone in this world. 
"I can't accept this." You force yourself to say, pushing his arm off you. He watches you stride back to the window, peering outside where birds of similar colour had gathered, making their way across the skies. 
You don't spare a glance back at Sunday. A frown crosses his face at your abrupt reaction. You're doing it again — pushing him away. He doesn't understand why you always turn away from him, always looking upwards at something else instead, as if nothing beside you impresses you. Isn't everything he's done for you? 
He tries again. "Is it not to your liking? I chose the finest one out of all those ones out there. Would you prefer one of those, if that's what it is?" 
"There's no guarantee those ones will sing though. Of the ones caught, most didn't make a noise." He adds. 
You scoff then, as stating an obvious fact. "You cannot expect a caged bird to sing." 
Perhaps he's brought this pet in as a mockery of your own predicament, but you intend to tell him likewise. For are you too not trapped within a cage of your own? He cannot expect you to be complacent when you sit so restlessly, knowing freedom lies in sight, itself a reflection in your eyes, whilst the rest of your body is chained, tethered by his sole fixation.
"But a caged bird is at the mercy of its master is it not?" He hums, yet it's devoid of the previous pleasantry in his voice as he steps up next to you.