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Cleansing rain, won't you come
And wash away what she's become.
Heal her mind and sing to her
That peaceful song, a steady hum.

Cleansing rain, a long white dress.
She dances in the morning mess,
Her mind is free from misery
Like eagles that fly from their nest.

Cleansing rain, the pitter patter.
Former days have bred the latter,
Healing comes not a moment soon
For she's been bruised by bitter batter.

Cleansing rain peppers her mind
With hope and love, rhythm and rhyme.
She's free at last from loneliness
And all the things which kept her blind.

Cleansing rain from *** above
Can fill an empty heart with love.
Once bruised and bound by broken wings,
Now she'll soar among the dove.

For those who are abused
A leaf in the wind
Free from the tree that bound it
But carried by hard winds
What is freedom to you? At what cost does it come?
Amanda 17h
I built a tower, locked away my heart
Saw a chance to protect my love
All alone, a birdseye view
Deeply isolated so high above

No one will ever find it here
Want to keep it that way
Though it does get lonely
Some point during the day

Afraid to grant my heart freedom
Live a life of cautious dread
Intentions were for it to be safe
Is my concern harming it instead?
I can hide away my heart but somehow, you always find it.
Michael 21h
Young child at home you are free,
Home is where you belong,
At home there is serenity.

The world has it's jaws wide open
Waiting to devour your soul.
The world is not where your freedom lies,
The word freedom in the world is a lie.
The world is a jungle
Where the need to survive restricts your movement
The need to survive is what kills you Young Child.

The world tells you:
**** to survive
But what she didn't explain is that
You survive to be killed.

Young child at home you are free
Home is where you belong
At home there is serenity.
The world is full of deception and if you are not careful you will be eaten up and spat out. That's why home is where your freedom is.
I remember well, the sunny days.
Dancing in the square.
The music, all the smells and sounds,
and you right with me there.

I remember when they came and said,
"The evil days have passed.
Now, we mark a new beginning,
A hope for peace at last."

There was much feasting on that very eve,
and an endless sea of smiles.
Yet somehow we failed to see demons,
that had been lurking all the while.

Suddenly, our freedom yanked,
like a blanket off the bed.
In its place an endless night,
and a wave of pain instead.

Now, I'm in the deepest place.
Cold and hungry, all alone.
Set free inside this prison,
That I get to call my own.
Speak my peace-
Euros, pesos, and money ****.
Chambered living,
Hustling to get out the crust,
Frustrated in time.
Golden coins wait for no one.
We seek above our pay grade,
With our Diploma’s in check but,
the amount of schooling
does not reflect the time spent
in a broken living.
Restricted by the cards laid on our deck,
Born rich, live rich-
But how many of us rise above poverty?
There is a system to this.
Chasing a dream to catch,
Suppressed by the gold and silver.
Working all the time-
When do we live?
Like the job we have
Is the place where we were born,
Calling it our home.
Money manipulating our minds
Making us lose ourselves.
Paper green consistency,
Measured by the piece.
Speaking my peace-
Who to trust when money’s spent?
Greed for green cause consistent evil
within societies.
Fortune equals fraud.
We hustle hard for an assimilated living.
Money makes us make moves.
I hold no doubts,
That through the pyramid structure of economic range,
I will cruise,
I will elevate,
Because I, see I
Will break my chains.
We have one life to live,
One life to be in the presence.
So bread will not make me a brawler,
I will not be enslaved by a dollar.
He wept for her bleeding heart
when she had no more tears to shed.
She fought with all her might
to save him from his demons.
He waived his morals for her freedom.
She waived hers for his.
The ransom was their lives.
The bet was their love.
Until they didn't have anything left
but memories of what once was,
what could have been, what it should be.
When the red petals fell
        Every field
                  shall fall silent.

For in those meadows,
                the wisps of the past
stand over the fallen.

Head held down,
       on bended knee.
   A remembrance if yesterday.

Every eleventh hour
       does an eleventh
                           minute fall.

And we remember
that freedom is sometimes
             paid in innocent blood
Passing through those Gates it was finally sinking in,
In just a few more minutes I was going to see you again.
I remembered before how I felt as I watched the other mother leave with her son.
Now I can't believe you are the one.
*** answered my prayer to let me be there to see you free
It wasn't much time but felt like forever before they brought you to me.
The very second I caught a glimpse of your face as you walked through that door,
Trying my best to hold back my tears until I couldn't control myself anymore.
I burst into tears holding you in my arms as you held me too.
I hope you know just how much I love and have missed you.
I watched your face as we walked out that gate
Arm and arm, still trying to grasp the feeling of being free.
Son it's all in your hands now, you choose your fate.
Make the right choices and do the right things
Only you can determine what your future brings.
I drove you to that place that you chose to go
Wishing you would change your mind but I already know
It just seems so unfair I've waited so long to get you back just to let you go and I'm still all alone
It's just hard for me to realize your no longer a child you are now grown .
I pray *** keeps you safe in everything you do
Just know when things get tough you have a home to come too..
Letting go is the hardest thing to do
I have an aversion to oranges after a bout of the stomach flu in 2015
and it feels like a betrayal to my Floridian roots
So I want to write a poem about my birthplace,
about the sunshine state that should more aptly be called
the often-sunshine, sometimes-thunderstorm state

It is the place where I first learned what it meant to live wildly
Where I’d stingray-shuffle into the blue-green waters,
seaweed playing tricks on my senses as it snaked around my ankles
Where I’d walk barefoot through the grass,
the sand,
across the pavement
Shoes always seemed like an unnecessary barrier between the ground and me
Where I learned to zig-zag run away from alligators,
screen my swimming pool from alligators,
call animal control on alligators

It is the place where concrete low-rises are plastered in muted pastels
and adorned by seashell yards and hurricane shutters
Where classrooms are modified trailer homes
and school hallways bare-***** metal roofs,
providing only a feeble illusion of protection from the elements
But what is rain to a swamp woman?—
She who dances with the manatees and mermaids in Weeki Wachee
She who runs away from home on a bicycle with handlebar tassels
She who cries the first time she catches a fish and does not release it
She who is unafraid of getting wet

There, everything is citrus and salt
and the thick, humid air holds my bones together with more ardor
than any northern wind could imagine
I fold my nostalgia into neat compartments
and wrap it in a bow that says, “I do not miss this”
But still, I cannot deny the spellbinding yellow cables of the Sunshine Skyway Bridge—
over which, as we would drive, I’d hold my breath until I turned bluer than the sky and sea around me,
wondering if we’d make it across in time
These fragments, all once mere mundanities of my childhood,
have since become ingrained in my individual
So, when people ask me where I’m from and my tongue forgets your name—
know that I am forever freckled with your memory
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