Free.

Free.

I remember when I was free.

Cruising down the middle of nowhere.

Snap backs, no tattoos, just a jacket.

Lost.

But I knew where I was.

Scared.

But I had zero doubts.

Days I held on tight to my fears, by the neck.

As I strapped on my boots and kicked the dirt.

Free.

Going with the flow of the wind.

Appreciating my existence.

Unknown and unsought by the system.

When the zeal inside of me

Fulfilled its purpose.

Days, the hunger inside of me,

Satisfied its every desire.

I was once, free.

No shackles.

No one to ask permission.

No one suing me.

No one taking money out of my paycheck.

No one expecting my automatic draft.

Free.

Luxury, taken for granted.

Love for living, unknown to me.

Once.

I used to taste the sweetness of the air I breathe in.

Feeling the relief from the desires I breathe out.

Long before I knew responsibilities.

I was free.

I gave that up when I “grew up”.

I gave that up when I “became shackled to society’s expectations of what it takes to become their version of a man”.

My happiness used to be based on the quality of my life,

But that’s considered childish, society ties happiness to quantity.

Everyone accumulating and hoarding.

Going round in circles, bombarded with worries, twirling in debt.

In pursuit of glamour,

I gave up far more.

I forget I used to look inside myself for my worth,

Now I look up to Mr Jones and his fancy cloth,

Dangling my feet as I wait for others to determine my value.

I want to soar again,

Unrestricted by bills and schedules.

I want to smile genuinely till my belly hurts.

I’m tired of fake smiling, my cheeks hurt.

Point me to the path that leads back to serenity and contentment.

Where being happy and free was the aroma of everyday.

Take these quantities, so I can be one, again.

No doubt, No fear, No slave master.

Free.