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Illusions are Real

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Caged and jailed,
As my hands grip the iron bars,
I stare out in bewilderment,
At a paradise I will never taste.

They tell me to walk out,
And I try, only to see,
Another chain appears and wraps itself around me.

They laugh at my misfortune,
But are blind,
To the chains of their own entrapment.

Once more I lunge for freedom,
I have broken through! I have broken through!
But then I panic,
And handcuff myself.

Bitter, defeated,
I find escape,
Where dreams caress,
And flowers never die.

All the while, the heavens laugh,
and ask, 'Didn't you know,
The chains, bars, and handcuffs,
Were but made of thin air?'




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Brianna11396 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 10, 2012 at 12:14 am:
we humans trap ourselves with chains we had the key to all along. beautiful poem:)
 
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