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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1989968
Poem about freedom
Chains that Bind


On this hollow ground, I stand

Finally, freedom within my hand.

But what is it to be free, I ask you.

Is your freedom a choice?

Or is it bestowed upon us when we are but little girls and boys?

Is your freedom an ideal?

A goal to yearn for; nigh out of reach as the slaves turn the great wheel?

Is your freedom your power?

A uniqueness that stays with you until your final hour?

No, heed me well; for the lesson that I teach

May soon be well beyond your feeble reach.

Freedom is an illusion.

A means to numb your skin, blind your eyes

That you may never see your chains in guise. 

But who are you that I look on with my eye?

A mirror, a reflection. You...are I.














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