Free

After years having no voice or control of myself.
Breathing away from paranoia and anxiety. 
Can no one put me in shackles and chains.
Does it feel bad, that you cant control me anymore?
Eagerly I fly, from the years I spent in the rusty old cage.
Free, is what they call it?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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Tripathi Avatar
February 29, 2020 at 11:31 PM
Nice poem,
Harper Avatar
February 22, 2020 at 7:07 PM
Well written ABC poem, Tanya, I feel your pain and desire for freedom.
Hodges Avatar
February 14, 2020 at 1:27 PM
I like this. I especially like the reference to the rusty cage. good word choice.
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