What It Means To Be Free

May 17, 2012
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“Please” is her frail fragile plea.

He just shakes his head.

“Why?” she asks as he bites his lip,

“You’re not supposed to be dead.”

is his soft cruel logic.

“But neither is she!”

is her desperate cry.

“That’s not up to me.”

He softly counters

“Please,” again is her gentle beg.

“Why?” he asks.

“Take me instead.”

“But why,” again he tries.

“She’s my mother; I love her.”

He nods at the answer.

“You do?” is his broken whisper.

“Yes!” she cries and he looks away,

“If you love her then

don’t ask her to stay.”

Her blue eyes water

Of tears to be

“But if she loved me too,

She would set me free.”

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