Slave Without Chains

Slave without the chains hurt without pain Wild yet untamed Born with out a name Why stand out while others are the same. They tell me I'm free— but my alarm clock owns my mornings, my boss owns my days, my credit score owns my dreams. the commute becomes pilgrimage to a temple of fluorescent lights where I sacrifice eight hours for numbers in an account that disappear as fast as they arrive. The chains are invisible now— made of Wi-Fi signals and push notifications, forged from the fear of falling behind, of not being enough, of missing out on whatever everyone else is pretending to have. my happiness in the gap between what I have and what I'm told I need. I scroll through feeds of other people's highlight reels, measuring my worth in likes, How does that feel. The master isn't a person anymore— it's a system, a algorithm, a culture that whispers: Soul during blisters But sometimes… between the noise, I remember: The chains are real but the lock is in my mind. link by link, choice by choice, swipe by swipe. The first step to freedom isn't breaking the chains— it's admitting they exist, that remembering— is where the real revolution begins.