It is odd to think we are free,
And to idealize liberty, and to praise expression.
But how at large can we truly be,
If within, we can only draw upon unruly self-repression?

If in public, we dare not speak our minds?
If our love, we dare not confess?
If to wrongs, we turn blind?
If from singing our hearts, we digress?

We claim to be free,
The thought alone, within us, sets a torch alight,
But the truth for truth we must see,
When given a pen, hardly one of us would write.