Penned
A boat in a harbour condemned by the knaves;
Made to sail on the highest of the waves;
Trapped and detained in a labyrinth of concrete;
Shamelessly forced to watch its freedom obsolete.
A bird in a cage, admired for its feathers;
Made to sing untranslatable love letters,
To fly and to drift through winds and soft breezes;
An unbridled soul suddenly stuck and cut to pieces.
A candle in the wind, like hope battling despair;
A flame turned to smoke by the unreasonable unfair;
The rain relentlessly falling onto a proud wildfire,
Burning embers, aiming higher, a lost desire.
A pen with no ink, a story never written;
A deserted page of emotions kept hidden;
Black can turn red, until the heart’s final beat,
But my voice will be heard no matter the conceit.
Because if I cannot sail then I will dream,
If I cannot sing then I will scream,
If I cannot burn then I’ll ignite,
And stand tall, penned, in the bright spotlight.