Shackles
These shackles are related to me for a long time
They sat on my limbs like precious ornaments for years
When ferocious loneliness in the prison would spread
On my mind like a desert, the jingles of the shackles proved
The world’s sweetest music to me
Now I am all free
Yet a sense of bondage lingers within me
Every day in the morning I sit in the cushy Sofa
And caress those symbols of slavery for no reason
My son asks me, ‘Papa,
Why do you play with the shackles?’
Now how can I convince him that
The shackles have entered my nature?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
