You tell me, "It's ok, it'll all be over soon."

And in a way,

you were right.

It was over.

My sense of direction and morality.

The knowledge that what I fought for was freedom.

Freedom from closed minds,

and hardened hearts.

Instead you filled my mind with false promises

of happiness.

My very essence drawn away

by bonds I had not permission 

to break.

My sight,

clogged with blinding light.

Light that covered the truth.

To you I am a slave 

to be carried away

in chains.

You promised everything would be okay.

I should have known better 

then to trust the Words of a Sheep

from the mouth

of a Jackle.