This simple, complicated life.

Prison.

- My brain is the prison and I'm its prisoner.

I have the potential to cut through this rock with a chiseler.

The prison guards know this, so the bloody bastards tricked me.

They tied me with strings of dubiety.

- Whenever the child in me protested against the restraints,

The bloody bastards fasten the strings; it made me feel taint. 

Eventually, the child in me gave up. It became an abductee. 

It surrendered forever, to the bluestocking banditti. 

                 - Samruddhi.