Skeleton praise
For who I am
And what the pen will say.
I belong;
And belong in a different way.
Inherent,
From the outset,
Curling cold
From tongues that split
In shades
Of blue and ice to form
On lips whose root
Is from the scarred mind.
Oblivious to truth
And scattered liberalism
Flawed,
For freedom is in the freed mind
And not,
The acting out
Of freedom
But,
The journey
From the darkness
Through to Light.
Bitterness,
It seems,
Still reigns in liberated hearts
And packs a punch
In the smile that,
Behind,
Is filled with it.
Freedom,
Real freedom,
Is from the self
And in not the embrace
Of blindness…