I am pale with disease, but that’s nothing to my misease. I can’t bring me here anymore. I can’t stand the eggshells on the floor. My prison was wrought from the freedom I sought. Clipped wings. A devil sings, ‘Rejoice, for you have no voice.’ No one listens to a conscious choice. I stomp where I stand. I slap away your tender hand. What happened to the grace I saw in your face? I am alone, chilled to the bone, kneeling before a vacant throne. I saw your feet fleeing the flight of the fleet. I saw your heels break the fingers of the hand that heals. Freedom for one is not liberty at all. A single slave can cause a mighty fall.