There she sat, in the faint yellow light,
in nothing but white lingerie,
a box of cigarettes to keep her company.
There she sits, soaked in smoke, viscous grey,
something to please her schizophrenic perception,
something to unburden her, remind her of her God-given free will,
a term rather easily scribbled on papers.
It was not materialism she sought,
she aspired for something far greater,
she wanted a sense of freedom,
to know what it’s like to be unchained;
even if it lasted mere ticks.
Deep breath, she no longer sits on her bed,
for the first time in her life, she was… free.
Two passers-by glimpsed overhead,
sighingly mumbled, “don’ya ever wish to flee?”
