Wednesday, 8 August 2012


Life is not fair
It depresses, it takes me down
Working life is no longer there
I battle through now but no end to the prison
The bars are made of guilt
A feeling of having to and not really wanting to
It’s time to revert on a life, imprisoned originally by having to.
Waking up in the morning and having to go to work
Going through motions of completing the job 
and over the years, hoping, wishing for a day
that it all ends, a day of freedom, a day of reaching an age
Where your country says, stay at home
The end of life’s paths
The end of visions of what you can do when you are free
Are you free?
Of course you are, say your friends, your relations, your family
So it begins
Waking up in the morning and not having to go or do anything
But just a minute, you have to make breakfast
You have to clean up the kitchen afterwards
You have to go shopping to get the food for breakfast,
for dinner, for tea
And then you have to clean up the place
And while you are cleaning you notice that others have freedom
Where is the pass to freedom you had been waiting for?
It’s there, oh yes, I know, but I cannot touch it or take it
Although I should
Like the man that went to buy a packet of cigarettes and decided to book a flight to New York
I do not smoke, have seen New York, and others might suffer from my selfishness
So life goes on in the waiting room to the next department

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