Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Freedom is uncontrolled

By
More by this author
Call it irresponsibility,
To loose all responsibilities.
Because I have dreamt for way to long.
My mind was driven.
It slowly turned to force
On the clouds I sat on,
So high.

The world flourishing
Beneath my lashes.
My view was too clear.
Left little to reality,
Little to fate.
And I layed down at ease.
Only going,
Higher.

I woke up.
My hair blowing in my face, terrified
Of the morning wind.
The sun started to cut pieces
Of my soul.
I was confident.
Yet too detached.
The world looked better from above,
Eyes shut.

I wanted to continue.
To soar.
I wanted to be the light
I made from the top.
And so suddenly
That desire became a hunger.
Needing.
Left starving.

I gave it full control.
And it had little sympathy,
For what it was doing to me.
So easily the passion was gone.
Strangled to death by the
Pains that crept in,
Invisibly.
And just like that.
I couldn’t tell the
Vast difference.

Fate continued on.
Shaking its head,
In disagreement.

Call it irresponsibility,
To loose all responsibilities.
Because I have dreamt for way to long.
I’ve fallen, now.
Awake. No longer
Caring much of the world.

I am letting go,
Of what once lifted me up,
So promisingly.
Rose me up to the sky,
And then chained me down to the clouds.
They accidently
Suffocated me.

Well rested, finally.
Air awakening
My careless bones.
Invigorating.

Call it irresponsibility,
But freedom
Is uncontrolled.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback