Dying To Be Unchained

Hours to days came and passed weeks to months and even years a decade to almost two within me a poet was gravely dying to be unchained seeking freedom of expression seeking freedom of speech So restless he was pounding inside me like a palpitating heart dying to be unchained to be a poet to live among poets to speak out his voice to let out his cries His ambiguous murmurings would often steal my attention as I pondered over them as deep thoughts possessed my mind as deep feelings oozed from my heart and permeated my blood stream Often I wondered to myself what really this tide of emotions is ushering me through a reminiscent of my past till I realized that within me is a poet gravely dying to be unchained Then I discovered my love for the pen to pen the poet’s voice when he grows restless when he rattles the chains locking him when he metamorphoses my deep thoughts into a sequence of poems dying to be unchained My love for the pen grew stage by stage with age and when the poet in me speaks I grab a piece of paper for the pen to ejaculate on poetic lines diffusing from my right hand filled with poetry laced blood onto the pen to mark the birth of a poem the voice of the poet in me UNCHAINED