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It feels like the shrill scream of relief,
The fingers slowly moving with the wind
The wind feeling like the clear water stream,
You standing on your toes
And twirling around
Then feeling dizzy
It feels like that throaty laugh of no care
Whether you giggle, chuckle, or snort during that laughter,
That’s what freedom is supposed to be,
Not a written document,
Not a proclamation,
Not a declaration,
Not words,
Freedom is a feeling,
And that can’t be drilled in,
Or taken away,
Or restricted,
Freedom is like the eagle in the sky,
It’s like closing your eyes
And feeling like floating on the water,
Making angels with a backstroke or snowflakes,
It’s erratic,
It’s exhilarating,
It’s not discipline & decorum,
It’s finding your own tune, your own hum,
Your own branch of tree to live upon,
If even the noses breathing are not the same,
Then how can the feeling be generalized with it?
But no more,
What you gave this girl, this parakeet of yours was a cage,
But, now, this parakeet has found the key.
I tried to describe the feeling of freedom.

— The End —