Freedom,
what is it?
How free?
Original thought,
does it exist?
Is it rare?
My mind,
filled
with what was
poured in.
I could
believe
many things,
based on what
was poured in.
Where I was
born determines
what I
believe.
Local dogma
clouds my reality,
determines
what I
believe,
how I think.
I could be
many people,
believe many
things based
on what was
poured in.
Once the
cake's baked,
fully formed,
how free
can it
possibly be?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem