- IMPRISONED -
The clatter of the chains that bind
  my attitudes and fleeting mind
 resist my spirit's need to flee
  and force the person others see
 to fit so neatly in my shoes
  with little hope to waste or lose...

 Oh, how I wish those wrenched chains
  would rust away to crimson stains,
 no longer clinking with defeat
  but crashing ‘round my waiting feet—
 Upon that day I shall be free
  to live the life God planned for me.