Freedom is but an open door to illusion.
When we are “entertained” we are numbed,
For we all live in The Village,
all bright and colored and quaint,
yet impossible to leave and driven to stay
yet we dream of freedom that laughs at us…
and raises it’s skirt to promise easy love.
We are flowers in a terrarium;
growing with the water of false lies
only to hit the glass
and unable to touch the sun.
Be Seeing You.
Please share if you would like
I loved watching “the prisoner”! How many years since I’ve thought of it though… thank you for the reminder, I really enjoyed this poem.