Ait gherbi Lamia
The Prison with an Open Door You do not know you are in a cage when the door is left open. For years, I believed I was free. I came and went as I pleased. I made choices, expressed opinions, loved and was loved. Or so I thought. My prison was not made of iron and concrete, but of something far more insidious: words that felt like caresses, promises that glittered like gold, and a devotion that mirrored my deepest desires so perfectly I mistook it for a reflection of my own soul.