Every time I look up,
The clouds will block my sight.
Every time I raise my arms,
Shackles hold me tight.
They keep me to the ground,
With a fierce and gruesome might.
And as I glance at my surroundings,
I know this isn’t right.
They say that hope will help you,
Save you from drowning in the sea.
But still the arms will wrap me up,
Laugh as they listen to my plea.
I’ll have freedom in my palm,
Then trip and drop the key.
And as I try to escape myself,
I know no one’s saving me.
As I sit at the desk I’m writing,
With the blood from my own veins.
My hands will remain shackled,
Still weighed down by the chains.
But I’m fighting, and I’m trying,
Whistles blowing from the trains.
I’m not screaming, I’m not crying,
Run away from all the pains.
While sitting in the corner,
Lifting up my aching hand,
I think about the people,
Standing outside, as they planned.
This is my new place now,
Suppose this my home land,
I can still see liberty,
But I’m sinking in the sand,
Stuck inside my own mind,
They’ll never understand.