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.
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