All that belongs to you is only skin and bone
No freedom to speak
The voice you produce is carefully coached to everyone’s liking and the voice you own is buried in a moss of childhood memories.
No freedom of expression
Societies schooled to create independent strong headed people; proud of their uniqueness but ashamed of their sensitivity. You go to bed with an amalgam of emotions but your smile on the picture is well tailored.
No freedom of choice
Every decision made had a string of variables to be satisfied but none satisfied you.
No freedom to love
Galvanized you seek their hand but on way are a million hands to be shook. They find yours rough, skinny, sloppy, or sweaty. Anything but just a hand holding a lover’s heart.
Yet, you decide to walk your truth. Step by step crossing bridges of vindication and paths of acrimony. The hand that once held a lover’s heart is now estranged. The voice that made people listen is now silenced by the path you’ve chosen.
And all that belongs to you is only skin and bone.