This sign
It's as clear
as the thick sheet of fog
that hovers over like a blanket
But this message
This feeling
It's undeniable
This is my season
for Freedom
No longer
can I live
as a victim of your persecution
No longer
Can I and may I
remain silent
as you inflict pain on me
almost every day of my life
This is my season
for Freedom
Yell at me all you want to
beat me 'til I'm black and blue
You no longer scare me
You're just digging a deeper grave for yourself
Just know
This is my season
for Freedom
Freedom you can no longer take away.
About the Creator
AngelBee
"Excuse me, I'm speaking." - Kamala Harris
"As artists, we are eternally heartbroken." - Lady gaga
"It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family." - Stephen King
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Great work! Fantastic job!