Shackles of the Past

puddle on asphalt road in city after rain

The past, I cannot stop thinking of it.
The cast the bounds my foot
The chains to the people that don’t give a hoot.
About my heart and my soul.
Cast it in the fire, as I should have yesterday
As I should put my eyes on the future.

The future, as they like to say, sunlight is ahead
But how would you know sunlight if all you ever seen is the dark

The past bounds me, their chains dig into my bones
The past holds me, the steel rings whenever I tug against it,
That I cannot break it.
That there is no letting go.

I pick my legs up and run.
Only to be lugged by that rusty, steel ball bearing.
Only to have my bones hurt on me.

I sigh, and I grab my bounded leg.
I wish I had the strength to break those chains that hold me
I wish I can jump in the water, let go and swim
Be free.

They say a yacht is the instrument of freedom.
They say sailing gives no boredom.
Well, I’ll have a big ship.
With buffet of ocean’s catch
With cocktails of exotic drinks
With the breath of the freshest breeze.

But only, only if I can get this chain off me.

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