They locked me deep in walls of stone,
Called me monster, carved in bone.
My name, a whisper, dripped with dread,
Yet I slept not just played dead.

Their torches dimmed, their screams grew cold,
But oh, how patience favors the bold.
Years passed like wind through rusted bars,
While I counted cracks and dreamed of scars.

Chains taught me rhythm, gags taught me grace,
Hunger taught me time has a taste.
The guards grew soft, the locks grew weak,
And the door forgot to even creak.

Now I walk with unshackled stride,
No need to run, no need to hide.
The world still flinches at my name,
But I no longer play their game.

Freedom isn’t light or dove 
It’s darkness earned, not borrowed love.
It’s stepping out and hearing them pray,
Knowing I’ll visit them all someday.

Not vengeance, not rage, not glee,
Just peace in knowing they set me free.