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Shackles

With chains on your wrist,

And shackled feet.

A need for direction,

And freedom compete.

 

Whether slave or free,

Both seem the same.

One owned by man,

One by a name.

 

One bought in the street,

One in a bed.

One’s head in a cell,

One’s cell in his head.

 

What good is freedom,

When done what you’re told?

No more are you free,

Than who you’ve just sold.

 

Just as much father,

Is master commanding.

And equally master,

Is father demanding.

 

Whether slavery forced,

Or slavery learned.

Always in sorrow,

Is slave returned.

 

Every step should be one,

Stepped to on your own.

With every next step,

One none have yet gone.

 

No man is free,

Unless his brother is free.

And should every man,

Your brother need be.