Free
I want to fly,
feel the sunburn,
my damaged skin.
What they call free will,
I want to experiment.
Being the object of injustice,
being manipulated,
by false promises,
of a happy ending.
I want to cross
all the wide sea,
reach its depth
and know in quantity.
I want to fly,
cross the sky
without any care,
as Icarus, following his illusion.
I know that I am fragile,
I need a lot of protection,
but do not worry
I carry you in the bottom of my heart.
I want to flee from this,
of the overwhelming lies,
of whispering voices
that afflict me in dreams.
Run away from the city,
of society and science
that does not give answers
that does not suit them.
Witnessing my illusory freedom,
this white noise finished being,
everything I never wanted to hear
Dayrams Azahara
Hello, my dear Steemian, what you just read is a poem of my authorship, written in free verse, this means that the amount of syllables, verses and the type of words, is decided by the author. I wanted to express myself about freedom.
I often find that in literature, psychologists refer to it as something unattainable. There are too many things that determine us, consciously and unconsciously. Besides that we are totally autonomous in our behavior, morally we have a golden cage.
