freedom for some

 
silken thoughts shimmer in the light
then fade when that light is taken away
slipping into the shadows
a thought that might have become a shout
becomes a whisper
one bye one swallowed by the darkness inside
an embryonic idea dies

it's a fight to rise up
and fight they do
decrepit and lonesome
beautiful and stately
each having a voice distinct unto themselves

I cultivate the darkness
it thrives with little help from me
demons run with the fodder I provide
passing on the seeds of despair
choking out the thoughts of freedom
I used to believe it was for all
but now I think it an illusion
freedom, only meant for some

a beautiful habitat for hamsters on a wheel
turning in the eternity
I wonder does it matter

how or what I feel?