Sonnet XXVI

I feel so trapped and stripped of all I love.
I cannot choose, but choices have been made.
I hate confinement more than death itself.
Without my freedom, I would rather pain invade.

Please cast me from my wicked captor’s grasp.
Enslavement withers me as heat does plants.
Pugnacious, hackneyed, putrid artifice:
The tyrant of my dreams and thoughts and plans.

Alas, the only ones who see my pain are those
Who are my family, and see my plunge.
Myself included, snares are unobserved
And slowly bliss, by bondage, is expunged.

Invisibly, detainment overrides
My self-esteem, my happiness, and pride.