Shackles of My Own Making

by Trent King

There’s nothing stopping me.

I can go anywhere,

do anything,

change my mind a hundred times a day

and no one will say a word.

And somehow,

that's my problem.

When everything’s an option

nothing feels real.

I start things,

drop them,

turn them into something else.

Not because I want to,

just because I can.

I used to think freedom

was the answer.

But now I’m not so sure.

I miss limits.

I miss the shape of things

how a wall

can make an empty space feel like home.

Lately, I’m tired in a way

I can’t explain.

not from doing too much,

but from having too many doors

and no reason to walk through them.

All this room to move,

and I still feel stuck,

In these shackles on my own making