you've hung up,
my desperate need to spread,
to take flight.
Potential can't propel me
across nations
when the stormy weathers show.
A single storm to shake your shelter:
Frozen in a wintry disease,
left to thaw in a cool spring breeze.
Summer reminded me when flight,
and freedom had meaning to me.
My ailments- empty.
A deep breath,
a strong, winded lung,
and in creep their memory.
Simple freedom:
A chance to allow yourself life.
To be righteous.
To learn from another, as opposed to self.
An encompassing cliche.
The complexities of being free:
A right to rule.
The privilege to obey.
A vague perception of justice.
The uncertainty of fairness.
I'll leave my weighted wings behind;
walk not fly, sail not soar-
if it's what freedom deems necessary.
