Swaddled in these loving chains
I find it hard to move.
The links weigh down my every breath
And chafe against my skin.
Where once they gleamed they now corrode
And I am tarnished too.
Why won't I raise my fisted hand
And use the key within?
Cherished by this chainmail mask
I find it hard to see.
The links occlude my senses
and I can't tell where I've been
Swaddling Chains
© 2013 Frederick Andrew