The prison of the free
I can resist no more but will not yield
My body is my prison and my mind is my tormentor
I'm driving recklessly down a curvy road.
I am all too aware of what every turn of the wheel does.
How if I moved it even an inch too far I'd be crashing head first into silence
From density into weightlessness
An unmarked grave withered through lack of tears
I must suffer in dignity
Forced to live with shame that plagues me
My eyes reflect my misery
The man I had occupied is in the throes of death
Dead dreams will conquer me
But I will still stand an imprisoned free man
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem