Freedom

Freedom from myself is what im looking for. This unrealistic life brings me nothing but pain. 
Im afraid of myself wanting it just to end this cession of left or right. To be or not to be. 
Looking for a finger hole of hope to many cracks that are trying to be plastered and painted. 
Mold grows among these crack, my mind filthy thoughts of death, sadness, hopelessness 
never to be whole. Broken like  a favorite toy you keep for the memories of what  it means 
to you.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace