True Freedom Poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'

He murmured sometimes,
Sometimes kept silent.
He said, 'True freedom; '
None knew what he meant.
He was declared mad;
Worried were his sons;
A freedom fighter
He had long been once.
He talked to his self
In fit of madness;
He made some cartoons,
When in his calmness,
One night in his room
He grew uncontrolled,
And in the morning,
He was dead and cold.
In his hand was found
A paper folded;
It had a cartoon
Of man unheaded.
He was portrayed bent
Under the burden
Of money, car, fridge
And television.
His lips were shaking,
Death though made him dumb;
He looked as saying,
'Freedom, true freedom.'