free?thinker

weary, a burden upon my shoulders rests, unwanted. legs tangled, frozen by whats said to be freedom. if only I could be enslaved like the rest, for true bliss is said to lie in ultimate devotion, unconditional trust. to give up, what I've known for years? unwanted, unmoving, this burden remains. the weight of meaning, or lack of perhaps, rests tightly on my shoulders, impossible to lift, crushes slowly, a small part of me.