Freedom last night meant
leaving the cramped space
which held me captive
albeit I agreed to the
shackles but at the end
all I could see was the
darkness outside, calling me
Hand over fist I climbed out
calling me, calling freedom
I chatter tumbled away, away
This morning my hair holds
the curls still bouncing
I don’t know where some of
my stuff ended up
my eyes are rimmed with
black, reflect the gold in
the midst of the blue
in the center of my
forehead there is an inexplicable
ache pounding through the
sausage smell
See more progress on: Do NaPoWriMo 2010 (A Poem a day in April)
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