Attachment breeds sorrow,
or so I have heard.
I think sorrow follows me
like a lion prowling the plains.
A ball and chain with links
made of greed tie me fast to the jail.
I love my family, my cat, my computer,
the tea from a certain restaurant,
and that little novelty shop at the Crossroads.
I locked myself in and the key rests still in the door.
My freedom waits right there,
but inches from my face.
Still all I see is the ball and chain.
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