Freedom

Freedom — is there such thing in the United Kingdom?
Are we really free?
Please tell me, Boris,
When you kept us two years locked up,
Twenty-three hours boxed up,
Let out for an hour a day —
While Number Ten enjoyed countless ,
We were threatened with fines
For turning our car keys.

Is there really freedom in the United Kingdom?
Or in the world?
When we’re dictated to as boys and girls —
“You mustn’t say this. You mustn’t do that.”
How’s that free
When silence is forced
And dissent is beaten black?

This is a poem about freedom.
Or is it?
Am I allowed to say what I want
Without fear of retaliation?
A government dictating the liberties
Of every man, woman, and child in this nation.

But it’s okay — just sit back and relax,
While Rishi knocks a penny off your tax,
And five pence off a litre…
Then raises inflation fifty-four percent
On your gas metre.

The rich stay rich,
Watching their widescreen tellys,
While the poor man claws at empty cupboards,
Listening to his children cry
As hunger scrapes their bellies.

And you all say we’re free,
Living in diplomacy,
That we all have a choice —
How’s this free
When no one hears our voice?

If this is freedom…
why do the chains still rattle in the dark?

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