I let it out at times,
the tethered soul of mine.
Let it savour the light,
hang in the smoke,
extract the trailing drops of life.

It tiptoes.
Scared to touch every being.
The familiar difference is intriguing.
I let it oscillate.
I let it oscillate freely.
Oh! The dance of the captive!

It floats through the words,
each syllable lumbers to make sense.
Scared stiff of each utterance.
The jibber-jabber could burn the pages
like its inside.

It puffs up. It shrinks.
It cuts.
I watch it bleed in hesitation.
Till it's again confined.