The chains, although like weak as smoke,
They lay heavy on me — a silent choke.
No sound of them rattling, no lock to see,
Nothing to free me from what binds me.

Yet even so, I search for why,
But the tighter they grip, the more I try.
I can't break free, no matter the fight,
These chains wrap my soul, and squeeze my light.

Not just my body — they hold my heart,
A prison unseen, pulling me apart.
But in the dark, a flicker remains,
A faint little light that cuts through the chains.

Though small, it brings a calm, a peace,
The knowing that I am not alone in this piece.
Someone sees what I fight to bear,
Someone who knows these chains are there.

The key to the smoke is that light they give,
A hope, a hand, a reason to live.
Even if only one stands near,
One is enough to fight through fear.