Who is Free?
Can you tell tell me
Who is free,
Even on a smiling face
Without a nagging care
In a beleaguered world
Of cupboards full of skeletons, and
Whitened tombs with grimy secrets,
Grieving souls prayerful with hope,
And broken hearts concealed in bodily casings?
The rich is trapped in a kind of poverty
But the poor looks upon him with envy;
Both are devoid of sanity and solace.
Who is free in a world
Where reality is but fantasy,
And freedom is servitude;
Where the soul is mortgaged
And we massage distressed egos
In parlors of vain and vanity?
Tell me who is free,