Slaves Of Freedom Poem by Ishan Gupta

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, yet my wish to fly was alive.
Surrounded by hardening shell, my will didn't subside, by it she was rived.

Then I felt my hunger filled, and upon my head vast open was my destined sky;
Now all that was needed was to burn my-self, and I burned to limits where mortals die.
The agony of being consumed layer by layer, reminded me of my painful stages of life;
My skin dropped as molten wax, surrounding my feet withheld by wishes, I strived.

I burned and burned and yet alive, wishing to disperse in fumes I fed;
To rise with the smoke to the sky I dreamt, risen alas, my courage too fled.
The tears of wax now they hardened around me, fear shackled my heart and they grabbed my feet.
I burned to my core; I cried, couldn't free my-self from them and couldn't flee off my greed.

What remained off me was a burnt corpse, surrounded by molten history of greed and misdeed.
All I ever was a Slave Of Freedom, blinded by wishes to rise, when freedom laid at my own feet.