There go the free-spirited men,
Cheshire smiles, painting their cheeks crimson
There go the brave and the adventurous,
Trying to capture the exotic and quixotic
What is that strange sound?
Why are my feet rooted in this ground?
Why doesn't the next wild breeze pull me away like a Dandelion?
Why can't I answer the Ocean's call with the same fervor and fiery eyes?
Chained and shackled,
Restrained and shamed,
A more perfect picture of pity you'll never find
The eternal act of rattling the chains,
I release a sigh, let me fly
The caged bird does not sing anymore,
It screams and cries,
It quivers and shrinks,
The bird only feels at home in the world,
With the only walls being the vast sky
and the mirroring swaths of land.
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
