What does it mean to be free,
when life brings us to our knees.
Day in and day out, torturing, screaming
into the ears of our soul. Life is nothing
more than a predefined road.

I wondered, if it has been that long,
since I yelled out loud on top of my lungs;
Do the things that are unexpected,
and not worrying if it’s going to get complicated.
Now, when the sun kisses the horizon,
the long outburst of howling is nothing more than a diversion.

Opening my eyes in a cold black and white.
The dark ceiling made me wonder why,
I can’t let my thoughts travel to the sky
I feel numb.

I feel my essence as a human, is breaking into bitter crumbs.
Perhaps, the sadness I put on everyday is trivial,
like a breaking of dried leaves on a walk after every meal.
Metal bars, barred wires
All this pushing and pressuring make me tired.
All these strings make me move as desired
Standing by in a corner I understand
That society is the best puppeteer of men.

What does it mean to be free?
To be able to make a choice that has already been made?
To walk along a road that has been traveled
To know the answers to all our troubles…
or to know that we still want more
or that after all the monotony, we are bored.