freedom.

what does that really mean?

an outsider might look in,

through a small hole in the wall,

and say that we are free.

but i know too well,

i see beyond small hole in the wall.

i see the chains of our words,

that tie us down to the floor.

i see the cuffs of our ghosts,

that hug onto our wrists.

i know that we are not free,

for we are bound by our own misery.