Chains

In the begining they were tight and strong, Thicker and golden then they ever were. These chains held this dear man wrong, Like a wounded puppy with bloody fur. True bliss is in innocence, The kind of bliss one couldn't bare. Completely opposite of ignorance, Which is entirely rare. These chains loosened with time, Until this man grew bleak. This is the reason I write this rhyme, Until springs sing their break.