I stay in a cell without bars
and yet, I wish not to reach for freedom.
I sit on my pallet
and quietly admire,
the drawings made for me,
by the noisy cracks of walls.

A small hole, in the centre of the roof
allows the sometimes clear sky, to say hello,
to sprinkle light upon this darkening room.

This window without glass
lets the wind to come inside,
to awake old pages from my diary
and pebbles made of dust.

Nothing but chains hang upon my body,
rusty chains
that used to clench me…
But now, they seem to spoil me,
with frigid caresses,
close to good bye, close to my rescue…

And I won’t run away from my heaven,
to obey a different God,
I'd burn into a flight to nowhere
than change my life.