In this tower

I'm locked away, they say it's for my own good the bars and locks on both the windows and the door, I have a perfect view, a perfect view of where I can not go. I can see the blue sky, the green of the forest. I can smell the rain I can feel the breeze. But all I can touch are these rough stone bricks and the cold of the iron bars. I'm all alone, locked up here, except for my friends the birds, and my books, I have them. They can take me far away from this tower, they show me what it's like out there. I've been here for as long as I can remember, But they still say it's for my own good. But is it really for my own good? or is it for the good of others? I'm not evil and surely I don't look that hideous. I'm just... different... I suppose. My blonde hair... my blue-green eyes... no one else I know has them. I'm different, is that so bad? It must be, or else I wouldn't be locked away, locked up in this tower that's rising high above a sweet rolling green meadow down below. With only a few barred windows, and a single locked door.