By Asya Girdhar
Is freedom always the bird that breaks the cage,
Or the one that chooses to stay, even when unchained?
Perhaps freedom is both,
Not the absence of chains, but the weight of wings we bear.
You are free to choose,
But each choice is a burden disguised as a gift.
They say, "Follow the wind, carve your own path,"
But what if I don’t know what I want?
Maybe I’d want to be free of freedom itself,
What is freedom if it's not mine to define?
What if the bird flew only because it never knew the ground?
What if freedom is not revolt, nor sacrifice,
But a quiet place inside, waiting to be found?
What if it’s not the cage I need to escape,
But the walls I’ve built within?
What if freedom isn't carrying less weight,
But learning to choose the weight we bear?
Perhaps true freedom is not escape,
But existing within the spaces we make,
And learning that even chains can shape the sky.