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.
Do not suffer alone for you never alone, don't think that many you need, but one is enough to keep you going. Let them help you for one hand brings more.
