These chains keep me bound in a place they call my home
A room full of family but yet I feel so alone
Free that I am but these chains are locked tight
Can you hear them rattle in the dead of night
Can’t you see I’m trying to escape but I’m tired of the never ending fight
So many words are spoken but they are never really said
Jumbled up feelings and a whole lot of dread
Worthless I am in your eyes I see
I’m something that’s nothing for I am me
About the Creator
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More stories from Mary harrald and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saunders6 days ago in Fiction
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