The Great Escape

My hands are tied
To the arms of chair
My eyes are stapled
And people are trying to crack my head
I try to escape
This group of people with orthodox mind
But instead they
Tighten the knot of my hand

"Help" i yelled
But all what came back was my echo
"The cost of freedom is
Not just to shout"

I fought them with rashes on my hand
And opened my eyes with an axe of paper
With the ugly face and injured hand
I paid the cost of freedom, all by myself

Now i take refuge
Behind this beautiful mask of poetry
Hence,
Now i am free