A Lone Fight Within

I wear the hours like iron chains,
Time, a weight, each breath restrains.
A silent war behind my eyes,
Where no one hears the muted cries.
I earn, I cook, I donate, I serve
Yet ask myself: Am I still alive?
I roam the sphere, but a dusty bin,
A world without a self within.
They see the plate, not hands that bled,
They take the coin, not how it’s fed.
I’m not praised, even am scorned still,
A man, not a man, just bent to will.
No throne, no crown, no voice to speak,
My power drained, my body weak.
The rules are theirs, the rights assigned
My freedom left, my soul unassigned.
They shape the tale, they write the part,
And carve their names across my heart.
I’m just a role, a tool, a game,
A nameless face without a name.
But deep inside, where fire remains,
Where broken bones still feel their chains,
A whisper stirs beneath the pain:
“I am a man, not just your gain.”
One day, this quiet storm will rise,
The sun will burn these shadowed skies.
And though today I wear their cost,
I am not gone. I am not yet lost.