Trapped

A joyous trill I hear from a world afar,

Melancholic expressions, as well, that emancipates a fettered soul.

Songs of silence is all I know, in this world I abhor.



Hues of fantasy I imagine to exist only in dreams,

Can it be really that ornate I ponder or is it a mirage of my insipid soul?

Colours of darkness, is all I descry, that glitters and gleams.



An angel whispered once to me of the boundaries beyond that horizon,

I could only show that angel the incarcerations within my soul,

Thought is infinite, they say, yet trapped within realities which I cannot broaden.