Screaming spirits of dark cages
For centuries lost in locks of ages
Desires mounting the rifle of freedom
In search of a space where wings cut not
Nay, none to shoot, remains desires
Only to be freed from the sound of a trigger.
Will it be pulled? When?

The bravery running through the veins of a blue blood
Away from the grasps of fear
Is it the same as that of the red blood flowing in a common lad?
To leave the clasps of killing claws
In quest of eternal freedom
Breaking or not, laws.

© Oyelami