Shackles and Windows

I wake up,with a yawn

To Another daybreak, another dawn,

Nothing has changed,

I am still in my striped shirt,shackled

Resting my head against the cold iron bars,

The smell of rust, and dried blood,

Whispering me many a tale,

Of lives gone stale.

Graffiti adorns the wall,

Not with paints of joy,

But with blood, and excrements.


The shackles pain,

I try to escape, but in vain.

The harder I try, the more I am entwined,

Trapped, like in a quicksand,

Or a never ending maze.


The only view of the world outside,

Is a window.

A window, to hope.

A window,to dream.

I see birds chirping happily,

Oblivious to the humans caged beneath them.

If only they knew what they had,

what I don’t

what I long for,





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