The Key To Your Freedom.

A pale body curled in a ball.

Iron bars stand tightly, no way past the wall.

 

An invisible hand slides under the screen.

A blank piece of paper and a pen with sheen.

 

The tingle begins in the hand.

It knows exactly what the brain has planned.

 

The lines dip, weave, coil, and curve.

The words giving you the freedom you rightly deserve.

 

The bars melt and fall away.

Orange lines slashing in a glorious raze.

 

I am no longer a captive, I have found my voice.

This page, this ink, giving me the choice.

 

I will no longer be a slave to the monsters within.

Nor the people plagued by this world of sin. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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