It is evening and the day feels old
the coldness comes upon me
and the lick of flames can't warm these bones.

The sun moves down the window pane
and I will never see its face again
but why should I be sad?
au contraire, I feel so glad the night is here
I do not fear the gloom as much as any man would not fear to meet his doom and I have met it many times,shook its hand or bowed before as each and every night I closed and double bolted,triple locked my door and barred the windows tight.

Freedom we take as a God given right but that is not so,go into any market place,see the many signs of prisoners written on the faces of the people there and tell yourself,I see no freedom,where but only I see jails in every sale the traders make,every pound of carrots taken to make stew and what would you do if you were free?
Ha
buy gold chains for all to see and tattoo marks into your skin,is that the freedom you'll let in,I see no freedom there.

Freedom is the freedom where the air turns into velvet touches,the rushes grow and are mad and wild inside the mind of child and all is where?

Out there the freedom calls to me,beyond the stratosphere,high up where no atmosphere would force into me one last breath.
Yes
death come slowly or be quick,the weak and sick would welcome you into their hearts and  would only think perchance of sorrow in one or more tomorrow which will never come.
So run your hands through my thinning hair you'll find a kind of freedom there and I am not afraid,I know I have to go and so I smile
and in a while you'll smile too
at times it is the only thing that those left living
can do.

Drifting, floating within shimmering liquid,
cascading down, flowing, blending in,
till nothing but essence remains;
Solitude becoming defenseless,
against cool, comforting tides.

Air spheres fly like birds,
reaching surface-high,
bursting from illusion;
Vanishing soon after,
as a mirage of dancing light.

Losing senses, merging as one,
contently shutting off all distractions,
held oxygen bursts outward;
Sealing silence with a kiss.

There is a girl you will see at 8 a.m.
Drinking her morning coffee.
She will wear flowers in her hair
And never stop smiling.
Happy.
She will be happy.

Did you know,
Only one-tenth of an iceberg can be seen.
All the rest is under the water.
Hidden.

Did you know,
This is the girl
At 8 a.m.
Happy.
Only one-tenth.
Hidden.

Because
There is a girl you will not see at 1 a.m.
Choking down her sleeping pills.
She will hold a razor blade in her hand
And never stop crying.
Sad.
She will be sad.

But you will never see sad,
For sad hides in the dresser
With the razor blades and pills.

And she will struggle to be awake at 8 a.m.,
Dissolve her pills in her morning coffee.
She will pick daisies and put them behind her ear
Because they were her mother's favorites.
And she will smile
Because she does not know what else to do.
She will force the word into her mind,
Happy.
Happy.
You will be happy.