I was born free
but as I grew,
with my limbs grew
“The chains”.
Chains with no ends,
no locks,
No keys!
They jammed my feet
restricting my sprint.
They tied my hands
limiting my moves.
They constricted
my memory.
For years I waited
for them to fade away.
like childhood,
youth and its glory.
But they remained
growing stronger,
Only changing colour and hue.
These chains of my
Thoughts and thinking
Holding me prisoner
to my own personality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Liked this ink...it is so said that we make our own prison....our lives remain a dungeon...Thanks.