She was
shackled at eighteen
Young
innocent and blind
She never
listened to reason
Through rose
coloured glasses he seemed so kind
She though
his jealousy was a sign of love
But as
usually happens, he clipped her wings of a dove
She changed
because of those chains
Her petals
closed no more to bloom
The light in
her eyes locked behind a watery gaze
Her heart
was filled with permanent gloom
He had clipped the wings of the dove
She grew
thin with a heart of stone
Saw no joy
in his kind of love
Felt no
happiness with his wealth around
He clipped
the wings of his beautiful dove
She killed
him!
She cried
Not from
inside but tears that quickly dried
The caged
bird cried “liberare”, Free at last
The cry of
freedom, emancipation and liberation
His death
was her salvation
No more would he clip the wings of the dove
No more would he clip the wings of the dove
Free at last
Acquitted
“Crime of
Passion” they said
With new
wings of a dove
Reborn like
the phoenix
She would
soar away
To enjoy her
freedom
Never to be
shackled again by love
The total
bliss of L I B E R A T I O N
Free at last
Free at last
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