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In my search for freedom

One morning my mouth said that I should take a walk and see life and her slaves, slaves in suits and ties and in vests and tattered pants. I thought that since I was a free man, a trip would do me justice, that by the end of the day I would have a man or two walk out the clutches in charge of them. I did not have to go far, for I came across zombies seated in a park, eating stale fries and expired soda. I saw slave women chasing after their slave babies and slave men walking their slave dogs. I saw them all, men with leashes on their necks and little babies with muzzles in their little mouth. I saw them being led by their dogs and their pigs. I saw their cats tired of being associated with slaves hanging up the trees. I saw them all, boys who would never grow to be men and girls who would never make responsible housewives. I saw women who could never speak their hearts out and men who would never actualize their thoughts. In their eyes I could see countless tattered dreams and trampled hope. I could read despair and the dearth of faith. Oh these slaves, they were breaking my heart. The funny thing about the slaves I met, none of them were being held. I looked around in my search for freedom, but I never saw a whip or a chain. I never saw a horse or a farm. They were all sheep, bowing their heads under the sun and oxen bending their necks to be yoked. They were all cracking their own whips and picking their own cotton.
In my search for freedom I realized that I was yet to leave the house, and all this time my eyes were in the mirror. In my search for freedom I found myself, my life and my state of existence.

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