I am the shadow of the person I used to be, still happy and involved,Sullen eyes and wearyWalking along like the deadWho would expect me to be where I am now? “The world is your oyster, how could you complain about the way your life is?”“Think of the kids in Africa, and South America, and India.”“What could be so wrong with your life when so much goes so right for you?”They don’t understand, no one can really comprehendThe grief that these eyes have seenThe words that I have heard:Threats of violence and self-harm, Complaints of lifeI am not wronged, I haven’t contemplated to be or not to beI am happy and free However I still know and seeOthers who aren’t so luckySlaves of their iconsSlaves of the mediaSlaves of their self-imagesCan you hear the shackles now?This isn’t a violent slaveryBut slavery it still isThere will be no gang violenceNo mass shootings eruptBecause we have chosen to take up the chains ourselvesWe MUST do this because that’s what everyone else doesWhy?Why must everyone be the same?Why can’t people be who they are?But it won’t happenNot with the society we have todayWhere everyone cares about plastic celebritiesInstead of real peopleInstead of the people we actually will meetWe picked up our shackles with no second thoughtPressuring others to join in with themThat’s not what I want, not what I craveBut here I am Me being meAnd that’s all I can ask to beShackle-free