Proclaim Your Freedom
What kind of friend are you?
Wait, what kind of friend am I?
I’ve refused to read, to write, to smile,
Refused to cry, and I often wonder why.
But why—ask why?
We’re all self-diagnosing, searching for relief
From the aches and the truths we try to deceive,
Temporarily easing the past’s sighs—
A deep breath.
We smile now, cry later—all for a piece of the pie,
Or the dream of a designer suit and a suffocating tie.
Living this life, until the day we die,
And realize it was all a dream, as we chase it,
Floating in the vanilla sky.
Ecstasy-filled, smiling, thinking,
“No drug could ever get me this high—damn, I’m excited—oh God!”
No reason for doubt, until all of a sudden, I’m falling,
From the sky, my wings no longer working,
I can no longer fly.
Man, my best friend is living a lie.
We’re devastated, witnessing a child raised
In misery, who had no voice, dying inside.
On us, they rely.
Was it us or years of untold abuse that blind
Our eyes?
Not love, but like pepper spray and mental anguish,
That we thought miscarried our souls,
Only to give birth to the pride we never needed.
Now we’re locked up, forgotten, alone,
For what seems a lifetime,
In disguise, unable to grasp the thought of opening our eyes.
Suicide watch, ridiculing our own life in disdain.
What happened? What really happened that dark night, or dark morning?
We’ll never know.
In those hours, familiar faces never seem to show.
They leave our knocks unanswered, our minds staring
Out the cold cell window,
With lingering thoughts, beautiful nightmares,
And the last memories that keep us feeling low.
But when the sun creeps up and devours our once frowning
Faces, now warmed by its golden glow,
Our eyes smile once again, and our depths show.
In the end, time reveals all, and true colors explode.
Are they your friends? Think twice—they might be your foe.
What’s really real? You’ll never really know.
With our vast judgments and insecurities,
Small-minded arrogance stole our smiles for a while.
Let’s embrace all that we are as a person,
Sprouted from a reckless, wild child.
Don’t lose your mind; do what feels right.
If it’s real, it will not exile.
The world is constantly changing,
The external price—our lives, our hearts, our smiles, our tears,
Our minds, our joy—are still ours to claim.
Our souls, so beautiful, though on fire like a phoenix,
Will never be slain.
Give it up to God, and the clouds will clear your heart—
Hindering shame.
Devastation will no longer remain.
We will extinguish ourselves from the opposite of plain,
Untouched and without disdain.
Freedom will proclaim.
