The Cage

My hands wanted me to let them free, from the cage, created by my own self, from morning to evening and to no where, I haven't seen the first ray of light, which brightens a little leaf, the moment of in between, I haven't touched the soil, and smelled no book, its been many days,or months or may be years, I haven't heard the little voices around me, the voices of swaying of trees in wind, of bird chirping, and of little child, more pleasant than sound of some music, I'll break this cage, may be not today, but surely someday, to let myself free, from the race of people who wanted themselves to be prisoned, - An open letter to the cage (The Cellphone)