What is freedom, who is she?
Is she in the chants and songs,
Tears of the marching?
The great land of the free?
Don't flatter yourselves.
You rip away our rights and
You rip her away oh so simply,
So brutal, quick.
Is she in the falling petals of
Roses you give us, thinking you could
Heal everything with leaves?
Is she in the hushed whispers,
Discussing school and rights and being
Stamped on by your yells?
Freedom? So understated and overrated,
It sounds so much like
silence.
What is freedom, who is she?
Is she in the covered straps
And dress codes, because
You. Are. A. Distraction?
What is freedom, who is she?
Running in our heads, quenched, a
Flame out of oxygen, by
You.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight flashes
AcakA collection of poems, short pieces of writing and the general muddlings from my brain. This is a small window into my mind- all of the twists and turns of the labyrinth that are my thoughts, a way to see both the light, happy paths and the darker...
