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Prisoned From the World
Long, drab sheets of cold lavished,
The white whisper of the wind penetrated the trees, the land, me.
An old oak dunk in pure horror signaled to me,
I had no warmth, no light, no hope.
In sheer disgust I plowed though the gray abyss,
The loathsome weather cackling at me as I strolled,
I stared into the blank midnight air,
Shall I thrust through the deep night,
And risk the odds of possibly being caught and killed,
A steep price,
Or continue a slave,
Captive and concealed from my pure potential, forever.
A harsh decision,
I watched the memories flush,
The farm, my home, my families deaths,
I blew with the wind,
I ran with the wind,
And found peace,
Away from the bitter cold,
Beyond the drab sheets of misery,
Apart from slavery,
Asleep from the world,
Resting in freedom.
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