Am I detained?
Or; am I free to go?
Please let me know.
There is reason to believe,
you think,
my life is something,
for you to throw.
Maybe you didn’t hear me.
Don’t just sit there and ignore me.
The way you behave,
do not,
make any sense anymore.
I can see the strings that are tied,
to your hands that are stained,
with blood and lies.
Don’t think I’m afraid.
To expose your,
freakish puppet show.
I get the feeling,
you need me in a cage.
Filled with things designed for me to crave.
And distractions that won’t make me misbehave.
Blinded to the real foe.
Someday I will be free,
and not submit to your commands.
Maybe I will be in my grave.
But soon the people will see,
and force upon you our demands,
to break away from this woe.
In this moment, I wont be brave.
There are causes to save,
and my children await.
So; tell me.
Am I detained?
Or, am I free to go?
Please; let me know.