The shoe,
Once new and bright,
Now with dust made light,
The aged soles,
Rough and torn,
They will never any feet adorn.
The bicycle,
Once rode,
Along the village streets,
Undaunted by fleets,
Of traffic so heavy,
Now just a memory.
The prisoner,
Remembers his days,
Of freedom and ecstasy,
Lonely and unhappy,
In his barred jail,
Hoping better times to hail.
The women,
Enters her abandoned house,
Once full of laughter and delight,
Now cracked,
With walls and floor broken,
A sad and ugly token.
Bondage not freedom,
Some live in the agony,
While the champions get victory,
Try to break away,
Shatter the bonds,
On the journey to liberty.
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