there are chains on my desk, you cant see them but i can, in fact i can feel them. i can feel them tight around my neck pulling me away from my soul. they slowly drag me 'forward'. my grip on freedom weakens as the links tussle my neck, the singing of birds fade and become more distant. singing choirs cease to sing. the sun shines differently, its a dim light with no glimmer anymore. i see less colours now and my muscles ache. i move less, smell less, feel less. its cold as i subdue to the pull. my clattering and rebellious steps form rhythm my legs conform as i march in sync with all the same misfortunates around me dragged and dragged we march there is no point to resist now we march confidently we march but our souls were left behind