Authentic

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on November 8, 2007 0 Comments

Broken inside, the pain wreathing
It's fingers touching, seizing, dominating
Every inch, every shred of life, stolen.
Freedom:  Where have you gone?
Can't you see me?
Can't you hear me?
Stop drowning me out!
I'm real, that is undeniable, isn't it?
I'm not from a mold,
Is that why you overlook me?
Liberate me!
Freedom:  Where have you gone?
Broken inside, the pain wreathing
It's fingers touching, seizing, dominating
Every inch, every shred of life, stolen.

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