Shackled but Free
Dangling like a bohemian anklet these shackles did drag me,
Bloodstained me,
Bloodshot eyes,
Skinny legs
And there were those who stared, pointed fingers and laughed.
To them I was Jesus.
But I saw them some as me, some far worse than I am.
But no one saw theirs only mine.
Heard them murmuring and gossiping about my crime to others.
I didn’t care I wore my shackles and stains with pride.
I was flawed!
My only crime was despite me limping on a foot,
I didn’t give a hoot!
My dirt glowed brightly.
Everyone was awed.
“she might have committed treason, she is shackled but in actual sense, she is the free one”
That voice stopped and I still walked.
People stood and turned up their noses,
But all the people I had come across, not a single one were spotless.
Some looked disfigured and far worse than I was but they still stood in circles just to discuss me
“Look into the mirrors before you and see the goriness before you laugh at her”
A giant mirror appeared after that voice and everyone bowed their heads because they saw how imperfect and shackled they were.
“She is Free”
