Wolves in Shells are Crueller than Strays

A poem inspired by Gaston Bachelard

Source: Pexels

Wolves in shells are crueller than strays
Bound by a belted suit
The decorative silk becomes the noose
A black vehicle of torture
Carrying you

Master to slave to master.
Innocence traded for acquired taste.
Freedom begins with chains.
You are branded,
Then you hand them they key as they walk away,
Down the path to material gain.

Freedom is earned only after imprisonment,
But you must first restrain yourself.
You dig the hole, fall within, then surround yourself with darkness.
You once saw the light, but only fleeting.
Now you imagine the warmth on your skin.
You strive to free yourself within,
But only memories remain.

Where is the shovel?
Where are the chains?
They are but metals and paper.
Plastic swept
Pens exchanged.