Release.
My soul is a bird .. Born to sail the skies.
Alas it is trapped .. Imprisoned... Wings drooping like a wilted orchid ...
There\'s a battle being waged inside, brutal and bloody.
I am the casualty of my own war.
My life a black scab .. A wound that will not close ,
Already scarred and gouged and yet I pick it still!
I am a polluted river,
Full to the brim with the debris of others,
So full I can absorb no more and yet I cannot discard the flotsam that floats downstream , clogging my very existence.
I once was the cart that needed a horse,
The bucket that longed for a spade.
The dog who pined for an owner.
The hand that reached for a glove
I long to dredge this water, set it free on its journey.
To lie on the riverbank - lost in dreams.
My fears drifting away until it\'s as if they never were,
My soul set free to fly on the wings of hope and desire.
My river to swell until it is an ocean.