Freedom exists
through fractured glass
and fists like crescent moons
waning on a veil of parallel steel


An orchestration of winter
plays before me
A scene which moves
like toys of God

And the birds
how they taunt me
clapping thunderously 
in their liberation

I do not belong
to these chains of white
My thoughts subdued 
in a brain of cotton

Their pills, my pills!
One white, two blue
find refuge under my tongue
I do not swallow, never do I swallow

One day, I will know peace
One day, I'll thrive in lack of compass
One day, the voices will prevail