The prisoners

Are the free

Shackled to chains

Of their own creation

To not know that loss

The monotony of the mundane

One sits in a cage

Wishing to waste time at will

Freedom is easily sold

Rarely at a worthy price

Foresight is a gift

Granted to very few

One may be robbed

Of all action and autonomy

Living freedom to the fullest

Length of their shackles

Having no bounds

Living endlessly and free

The will of all in the world

Yet inaction in their every deed

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