The wriggling of my wrist behind the cold shackles got my eyes moist again, A good reminder of my self induced misery, Seeking for a solution in the sideline, Miandering my way to melodious gains, Boycotting the stipulated odds.

In my gullible pedestra I swang, Oblivious of how slippery it slated, Fasttracking my loot into the highest crescendo, My conquests skyrocketing.

In my debilitated state I sang, Cheery and merry, Dancing and juggling, Seifing and conniving, Plotting and implementing.

The Swift manoeuvre of nature was quick, breaking off my aloof before its crochet, Crippling what was left of my compendium, Gnashing my teeth in the anguish of jail.

Cold shackles overtook my composure, Arresting every part of my dwelling, Forcing me back to my roots, My belief in the one who died for me!