• What I see : a man throwing dust into the wind.
• What I feel : freedom at last
Into the wind
Night and day,
all the same;
Hope died a thousand deaths,
For there was no womb to bear,
Nor mother to birth.
Faith grew frail,
And so close to the grave.
Night and day,
all the same;
Weak to the knees,
I wouldn't be found,
Standing up to the crowd,
My shoulders fell and shuddered,
prayed to sink into the ground.
Night and day,
all the same;
I was afraid of fear,
I was left defenseless,
with not one spine to spare.
Gulped down so much spit,
my drown my tongue in it.
Night and day,
all the same;
But no,
The bull's horn was ripe,
And for the grabbing.
I couldn't take it anymore,
Picking myself off the floor,
pound the fears to dust,
And threw caution to the wind.
©TheUltimate