In Captive

In my one last desperate attempt to look, I’ve found myself weeping the way I thought I would never do. This was not me. But the tiny drops of tears, I feel them real as each tear promenaded its path along my face. How sad! That at that very moment I’ve wished I held on strong, I was released in the midst of a wide, empty space. How disappointing! That at the instance I thought I was owned, I am all at once freed. How could it be that though liberation seemed much like a panacea, it’s saddening and frustrating to know that after a little while, it is just another, captivity?