Freedom is rare.
We’re either chained to what people think of us,
Chained to a job or career,
Chained to the past,
Chained to the future,
Chained to an outcome,
Chained to our thoughts,
Maybe even chained to how we look.
I’ll dance around in public,
Not caring who watches me.
I’ll raise my voice in a park,
Not caring who hears me.
Just to show you that it’s possible to be oblivious,
Just to show you there’s no need to be afraid to be you.
Let go of those chains you’ve created for yourself.
They’re not needed,
They’re only holding you back from feeling the ecstasy of being alive.
See yourself as a prize,
A blessing,
A miracle.
This is what you truly are,
Free.
About the Creator
Isis Lyons
I am extremely passionate about all things writing; I write poetry, short stories, books, reports, essays, and I even create music lyrics. I'm here to share my passions with you all.
Instagram; @isisthepoeticgod
@_isisthewriter
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His Sweater
She kept his sweater. Always methodically folding it into a pillow on her bed. She keeps it close to her; smelling the familiarity. Unable to bring herself to wash the eventful reminders out. He could not be caged by her. So this was the next best thing. A soft cotton reminder of their time spent. A knife in the back. She missed him even though he left like evening rain. Leaving her with just her thoughts in the cloudy night. A final decision. She would sob into the knitting. He’ll come back. He’ll come back. She convinced herself these words were as true as the sweater in her arms. That he would want the sweater back. Plead for her to love and forgive him. She would have given him a second chance. And finally, he did return; rising from under her kitchen floorboards and wanting much more than the sweater he had left behind.
By Andi Leigha day ago in Poets
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