Requiem to Freedom

A lustrous glass door I see,

my requiem to be free.

I gape through it, and I see beyond it.

But I don’t get its real grit.

Is it the truth or is it a lie

Or is it just a mirage, for my eyes feel dry.

I stretch my hand

and all I feel is a void.

It’s cluttered and packed yet

absolutely empty like a cheap cheap tabloid.

I close my eyes and open them again.

Rub them hard and look yet again

There the mighty gates stand,

sneering and mocking me like Devil’s hand.

I open my arms and beg thee.

To take me in and let me be free.

I don’t fathom how I am still bound

Begging to be free,

 yet by my own desires still shackled and hound.

I know not that freedom ain’t a place that lies beyond the gates.

But a state of mind

which has nothing to do with drugs, alcohol

or any princely states.