Hopes Of Freedom.

Even with the lullaby from the ac,

Or the warm and soothing blanket

And the soft cotton bed,

I feel my sleep still far away.

Even with the different menus,

Tastly cooked up for me

Decorated, and served in china ware,

I still feel my hunger flown away.

Even the beautiful frock I wear,

Stitched with the finest of silks

Soft like the feather of a peacock,

Is pricking my body all the time.

When can I be my own master

And turn around as I wish,

When can I break the big black chains

And fly with my thoughts, far and wide.

Then may be I can sleep well

Even under the railway bridge,

And the left-over in the bin

Will be the tastiest of all the food,

And the re-stitched torn frock

Will feel like a feather on me.

I wish those days come fast,

And take me of my feet.