Freedom
What good is freedom
without Our own time.
We're society's prisoners
but have committed no crime.
Life's like a journey
on a slow-moving train.
From station to station
nothing lost nothing gained.
From our very first breath
we're all caught in a web.
Hills become mountains
On our journey towards death.
We're all caught in a trap
until our lord pays a call.
Then we leave here with nothing
what's the point of it all?
Copyright © John Read | Year Posted 2022
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