The Chains of Our Choices
We did not
choose the
time
and terrain
we were
born,
in palace
or pantry,
in
the noon
or in the
morn.
We did not
pick our
guardian
and
gender,
we got
them
without
bid
or tender.
How we
were bred,
we did
not
bargain;
in garden
or ghetto,
with
pleasure
or pain;
We do not,
only some
would
decide
when to
die,
we are
tamed by a
tender
and timely
tie.
All that is
given to us
is
how we
would live,
with our
brains to
buy
what we
would
believe.
What we
hear, what
we
say; our
yes or no,
where we
go, what
we
know how
to sow.
In love or
loss, in the
lights
that we
look,
in beauty
or
brains...in
the
brooks of
book.
We are
chained to
a choir
of choices,
sold to our
souls' vile
or
virtuous
voices.
The Sun
and stars
rules on
the same
throne,
Diamonds
and
platinum
are types
of stone,
the sky is
enough
for birds
to fly into
fame or
flame,
we have
our life to
live...not to
play blame
game.
In the
creeds we
crave and
the norms
we neglect,
the life we
live and
the
rights we
respect.
We decide
our own
wrongs
and rights,
and they
decide
where we
will sleep
at night!
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.
