I’m enslaved although I’m brave.
Pressures force my mind to cave,
in spite of my cravings to save
my slaving eyes from a shallow grave.

Bravery lies in the ability to not lie,
or deny reality, but to unshyly cry
in day or night. My eyes are bright lights as I
look to the sky and try to not die inside.
To be higher is to not look at danger and shy
from the fear of a freedomless failure. Braveness
is greatness; a courageous showing of patience.

It is the face of the heart’s race and pace
that is traced from a loving embrace of grace.
It is not famous or faithless, it is the safeness
to continue to another day. It is to sway, to stray,
to waver towards the unpaved way without fray.  
It is to walk on water no matter the weight, to say
that although we may be enslaved, we are brave.