I was locked away
In a tower
With no windows
For a really long time.
I sang of freedom,
Of breathing fresh air,
Of feeling the sun
On my face
Again.
But it turned out
It was me
Who had the key
All along.
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Passenger
PoetryIt is not about the destination. It is about the journey. #26 in poetry (Apr 8th 2016) Photo belongs to its rightful owner.
Tower
I was locked away
In a tower
With no windows
For a really long time.
I sang of freedom,
Of breathing fresh air,
Of feeling the sun
On my face
Again.
But it turned out
It was me
Who had the key
All along.