Please hand work with mind,
for my flesh is so tense.
I need you both to work as one,
for a result to make sense.

I cannot seem to breathe at all,
somehow my air is lost.
Each written word, so unclear,
seemingly composed by a ghost.

I have yet to let my mind to wander,
yet it seems to be ensnared.
With what I do not know,
but such a thought makes Mind scared.

Afraid it may never come loose,
to be forever leashed.
If there is, of course, no hope on Earth,
the next life may let it free.

Is there such a word as liberty?,
I have yet to discover thus.
Unless there is truly no such thing.
What is to become of us?

Living as we do through dire moments,
such an atrocity we have become.
Unable to breath through our own greed,
someday the end will come.

And thus here endeth iniquity.