Slaves Of Freedom
I was a braid of cotton's fur, light enough and ready to rise to hundreds of miles;
Yet stood stranded by heaviness to rise higher, I was moved by wishes beguile.
I fumbled for my brother's arms and got hold of many, yet none complete;
Carved a tomb of their false love, I was living my dreams, but a life obsolete.
The hunger of freedom drove me to boiling fetter of tears and blood;
I embraced my blemished fate, and drowned in molten wax's flood.
She strangled me then chiseled my skin,