Poetry : Argh!

If the sky be blue why is a red heart the same colour?
Is the blood that flows through it not crimson?
The joy of being alive is not the breath but the flying
Will a bird truly be free is it is caged up?
Pecks does the creature the hand that feeds it.
Blame it for not loving you do not.

I want to have the sky in my face and between my fingers.
The eternal of a blanket of care.
I revel in that embrace

Help the child!