I am in the middle of an emotional sea,
Where I look up at the birds up high,
And wonder if I could be as free;
But again, freedom is just a lie.

There is a chasm between what I know and see,
Do we really need wings to fly?
So concerned about what to think, what to be;
Struggling in a limited sky.

- [ ]  I don’t trust the thoughts inside my head,
- [ ] I’m a prisoner of my own,
- [ ] I guess I’ll never see the land.
- [ ] When will this cell be gone?

~~~

write the scriptures,
the Book of Me,
with authorship
exposed on the books cover,
of every word have ever writ

flawed, ignored, rejected,
necessary to self-publish
upon the unpapered internet,
where words are ionized

I take an oath,
self-administered,
oath sworn upon mine own scripture,
testify before a jury of my peers,
me, myself and I

what you read,
is not imaginary,
I am real,
you are realizing

each of us has a truthful name,
in spite of acronymic disguises employed,
and wearing it,
here, upon this.....line dotted,
place my neck,
ready for
the executioner

you
~~~

October 24, 2015
7:20 am