there is a question
and I’m drawn to the reply
around me I’m everyone asking:
am I truly free?
Am I truly free?
sitting in a room,
a cage of walls surrounding my body
the answer could never bloom
the answer isn’t given by anybody
these empty chairs won’t give me an answer
and neither do the walls
am I truly free?
sitting on grass,
a cage of thoughts surrounding my mind
feels like walking on broken glass
it feels like I’m carrying all the weight
these glass splitters won’t give me an answer
and neither does the grass
am I truly free?
sitting in my grave
a cage full of earth and death
I’m dying in this cave
all this makes me feel out of breath
this cave won’t give me an answer
neither does death
so when the time comes,
and I’m sitting in front of god
and I ask:
am I truly free?
all my responses will be numb
when the halls echo: am I truly free?