The hands of movement,
by and by
break our fall,
they're indeed very sly.

A freedom of spirit,
Is slowly being crushed.
When one sees desperation,
dirt and dust.

A freedom is being taken,
to meet new lives,
Instead being given
...muffled cries.

A freedom is being snatched,
of happy joys.
Gender and doubt,
unlikely toys.

But trust was asked,
not very much,
A freedom was taken,
and life was such.