Returning to Shackles
How often have I sat and wondered?
How often have I cried?
How often does my soul remind me
of the day it died?
How can I trace the tragic path
that led me to this state
Can I retract the words and deeds
that forged this sorry fate?
I feel I'm trapped inside a maze,
a labyrinth of lies.
Not doing what I want to do,
but that which I despise.
For so long I've watched convictions fail,
I've seen me turn astray.
With these hands I've broken every vow
I'd promised to obey.
How can I claim the promise now?
How can I still insist?
When the chains of slavery I shed,
are still upon my wrists?
by. me
12/21/10
