Whisper

Wind whispers to me,

Telling me all I should see,

The sky, the trees, the beautiful sun,

Streaming down the barrel of my gun.

“Life,” it says “life is out there.”

But I am trapped, my soul laid bare.

“Pick me up!” I scream and choke,

It says “I’ve heard this from other folk,”

“My dear you have wings of your own

And from this prison you could have flown.”

I frantically search but no wings I see,

Maybe I was never meant to be free.

Then it hits me, wind streaming in,

My own strength is where my freedom begins.

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