What is freedom?
Is it the brainchild of purpose?
The essence of existence
A false reality made by unfathomable content
Freedom squirms in the antagonized grasp,
It fights, screams, and then fades to nothing
Where is freedom found?
Is it found deep within the tyrannical brick walls?
Freedom is only found in the light
Never near the darkness
Freedom is cleaved by the elite
Never left as scraps for the dogs
Does triumph prevail after the release of a prisoner?
Will the injustice and affliction ever cease from existence?
The oppressed are nothing but like preys to society
We are but feeble and frail to the eyes of racism
Our silence speaks nonsense
From hour to hour the clock ticks, but yet no change
An innocent man, a good husband, and great father
Is bound by chains and stains of racism
Is it not the prison bars that keep us locked up,
Instead ideals of unreachable expectations of physique
Tom Robinson, who did nothing wrong, is wronged by the wrong
How does freedom look like?
We walk down desolate, dystopian halls
But, it is no different from outside