One chain remains
-wrapped around our throats,
Slinking into our mouths.
Syrup sweet brightness filling the void
With every link.
To hide the taste of blood-metal.
Coiling our brain,
Toiling fields in
Our frontal lobe. that grow blessings
from cotton seeds.
The chain comes out,
Of our ears.
sheathing our eyes,
Until all we see is the silver promise
All we hear is the eternal whisper;
“Free at last,
Free at last,”
They always say freedom isn’t free.
Eloise Brown is a Michigan native. When she’s not writing or reading she can probably be found cooking and then putting pictures of her food on Instagram.