DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sweeney Todd:(
My lark never sings.
Sometimes, I hear him make strange noises, harsh and guttural and unusual to see on such a beautiful creature. He seems not to see the bars until he tries to fly away, realizing his boundaries only moments before crashing. He bore feathers in a dull color, but for some in a brighter yellow than my hair. I suppose, like him, it'd be best to take wing, trying my hand at freedom. It was no option for him the moment he was captured and handed over to the judge to become my pet, nor was it my option to be handed to the judge upon the demise of my parents.
I do wish to set him free sometimes, as well as the other caged bird imprisoned in my quarters. Unlike the lark, he sometimes does sing. I fear letting him go, for he has knowledge I do not. He could likely teach me very much. He doesn't seem so inclined to take to the sky as his counterpart, keeping his longing to himself until he could seize the opportunity to escape. This, I know, would be best for me to do. I do feel spiteful. I do mourn. But if I should learn to sing despite this, would it not confound the judge as to whether I am singing in rejoice or in undertones of exultation? He'd not know if I'd intended my song to vent my frustrations when it sounds beautiful all the same.
This bird, I feel, knows quite a bit about the ways of the world.
Without the protection of the curved iron rods surrounding him, he would be susceptible to the evils of the world. The cost being my freedom, is it truly worth it to be safer if I must sing when I am told?
Judge Turpin has always viewed me as a malleable child, molding me until his intentions could be realized. He spoke of it the night before last. He offered himself to me in marriage; this, I know, is no offer but a demand disguised with niceties. I am no fool. He says protection but I see something else entirely. And maybe he knows this. He, no doubt, saw my hesitance. The idea repulses me. I did try to remain cheerful or stoic at the least, though I could barely maintain a weak smile. It was as though all of the muscles in my body retracted like the shrinking of a drying animal hide, keeping me from breaking into tremors.
I'd likely be more relaxed now, but the stars outside are maddening me. Such a burden it is, knowing they're out there but I will never reach them. I scarcely leave this house. We go to church and sometimes the Judge will bring me to parties and such events with him; he prefers to keep me from prying eyes. Such an unfortunate day it shall be if I lose my window as well. He recently told me of a young man who gandering upon me outside of my window. I saw him, too. He wore a gentle expression, as though curious though not necessarily gandering. I think I should like to be with him. I image myself, over and over, giving him the key to the house. He could come and remove me from this place at nightfall, or perhaps when the judge is at the courts. The sky outside awaits these birds in the same way the streets below are beckoning me. Just beyond our bars lies our freedom.
Dear bird, how can you jubilate, undeterred by your circumstances?