FREEDOM

He thought he was a free man,

And proclaimed so much to me

He shouted loud for me to listen,

Yet, offered much to see.

Born into the womb of desire,

Expectations have fathered him

His tiny babbles too were judged,

By others’ hopes and dream.

He grew into a set of belief,

And thought it was his

He loved, hated, played and jostled,

To accommodate all his people’s bliss.

His choices became his destiny,

Or was it the other way round?

He held his head high all time,

But muttered uncomfortable sound.

In his benign grace he was,

A vision- the conqueror of the fareth

Alone, he was a lost man,

Engulfed by his own wrath.

He is born free, he says,

And uphold ideals of liberty

He wished world to move as he sways,

For that is his destiny!

He is born free, he says,

Yet what dreams are his own?

Rambling in chorus with the noise

He has no ideals to mourn.

Should I, his conscience, tell him so?

And prick a hole in his glee,

As always, he would ignore me

For, to do that, he is completely free.