Crippled by doubt, paralyzed by fears
A condemned man sits engulfed by his tears
Few thoughts of freedom, as a gentle wind blow
Enchained by deferred hope in ways no one else knows
Through his soul's windows, he peeps out at life
Then remembers the days when it cut like a knife
Wounds of experience, the dark colors of age
Limit his imagination and handcuff him to rage
It’s his own self indulgence that bore him regret
Yet chance of appeal he refuse to accept
For truth calls out to Him more than anyone else
And though he desires much freedom
He complies with the sentence of self
Copyright©2009 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
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