Standing on the edge with a view onto,
Nothing,
Hands clenched in fists of rage,
My body locked and I feel,
Caged.
The wild animal within,
Hearing the wind,
Feeling,
Natures breath.
To hear the call from what is,
Wild.
A call to flight,
A call to arms.
Calling,
Calling me to,
Cage,
Cage,
Horrid cage.
Why must I view such a wasteland of,
Despair;
Yet hear the calling wind.
The sweet sweet song of,
A memory not my own;
Ancient.
Free.
I will break this cage.
I will run wild.
I will run free.
The horror rage,
That shakes the cage,
Of the wild,
Within me.















Comments
--
A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. -H
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