I told them all, freedom of thought was a problem. That by being so free we were all trapped, enslaved by our own desires. Without thoughts we would truly be free to be ourselves. To live as truly intended. The higher ups agree with me and I know it. In the courts when we are forced to watch trails and hangings and the children turn their heads away the higher ups click their tongues. Note the names. Those children will not live long. I remember my first day in court. I saw a mans face turn blue and tongue protrude, and I knew that he was free. He no longer thought. But there was the dilemma, he was free but not alive. Even at seven I knew this was a problem. When I came of age I talked to the higher ups. I told them what I wanted. How I wanted to be free. And they said they could help me. The surgery didn't take. I don't think I'd be able to write this if it did. But immediately before the surgery I did write this-
Thoughts are like shackles
They bind you to desires
when you are covered in chains
you are not free
my thoughts dragged me to the bottoms of oceans
I could not swim up to breathe
But then the key was inserted
and all the locks fell away
I no longer question exactly how to feel, or what to say
I no longer have my own thoughts
and it's best this way
I no longer struggle beneath calm waters
every moment is a sunny day
Some question how I can feel so free
And I respond the one enslaved is them
not me.
I don't know what I thought. That maybe I'd become the poster child for the surgery. That maybe it would all be big. Maybe one day I would be in the books. Of course no one would need the books if they didn't think for themselves. They wouldn't spend hours upon hours memorizing the scripture to prevent them from doing what is forbidden. And it would all be thanks to me. My poem would be published along with a picture of me post operation looking happy, looking peaceful. Of course that's wrong of me... to want recognition. If anything I have more thoughts of my own now. I don't know why this is. But it's terrifying. I've begun to question things. Even the higher ups. But of course this means nothing now. I still have my own thoughts. Sometimes I even hear voices. Especially at night. It swirls around and around circling the drain out through my own mouth and sometimes my own voice speaks the words into the air. Sometimes it's not my voice and the words engulf me in a storm. The voices shriek and set my teeth on edge. They tell me; I wont live long.
