A Caged Bird.

Here I sit, adrift in silence's solemnity,

My fingers, veins bulging, battle against the machine's demand.

Focal dystonia halts their dance, as sweat turns to rivers,

Yet the relentless demand persists, coercing me to write,

As if they believe I find solace in this torment.

In my youth, I was taught that dreams materialize,

But now, my only vision is freedom, elusive yet palpable.

I long for release from these steel confines,

For a life beyond the suffocating grip of obligation.

Still, I surrender to the typewriter's call,

Each keystroke a reminder of my captivity.

But amidst the struggle, one thought sustains me:

My family, my anchor in this storm.

If I should meet my end before this unforgiving page,

Let them know that every word was written with love,

That my sacrifice was not in vain,

And that my longing for freedom was their legacy.