Raki Lyon Poet Narrative

The Price of Liberty

Let me tell you a story
About the man who was twenty
Who was taught that the value of gold was equal to the value of his liberty
The man who at sixteen
Was already obsessed with things that didn't fill him.
Eager, extremely eager to take back his tattered beacon
Afraid that he would be termed useless if society sees that he's empty

At the ripe age of twenty one
The man left his home that ought to have filled him
Took up his stacks of papers in search for his stolen liberty
The man who had been taught that his price of liberty is equal to the stack of his papers
 And off he went, to the dubious land of the unknown
The land where things are heavy and the weights are untold

The man at 21, who was taught that he's nothing
Went in the belly of a wretched land in search of his lost liberty
The man bought with him, a hoe and a shovel
In an attempt to dig into the very depth instead of to grovel
For he was told that to a man deserves no help
The value of his liberty is only equal to the stacks of his papers
Deeper and deeper he dug
Into the very depths of its soul
In search of a lost liberty that he was told
But the more he dug, the deeper he saw no sunshine 
Just the darkness and doom of the very hole he had dug
Until at last, the city swallowed him whole
His stacks of papers swishing in the sickly air
For the man who was told that his liberty was equal to his stacks of paper
That man, at 23, is dead

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