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Liberated
December 12, 2018
I want to be liberated.
Freed from these sounds.
All this noise.
From the beating of the drums,
The blaring of the horns.
From the marching on.
Liberate me from the pain,
The thumping of our feet on the hard concrete,
Over and over in this endless marching routine.
We’ve never stopped,
Never even began.
The parade has simply existed.
As we march on to our deaths,
Or an infinity of steps,
I wonder which is worse.
Perhaps death is the better option,
But this is not what I wish for.
All I ask,
Is to be liberated.
So will I be?
© Donna H., Barrie, ON, Canada
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