Breaking Free

I see myself changing,
though uncertainty is a good thing for once.
I lean out the window as we sail
across the asphalt sea to a paradise land.
I can’t wait to see the glory of a new sun,
thinking, a different sun must shine there
than which fails to pierce the wicked gray
of the skies from which we are vacationing.
The clouds part and the big white sun smiles.
The sensation of running away grips me.
Or is it the warmth of those blazing darts,
Is anyone else fleeing in their hearts?
Out of all the cars and trucks pushing past us,
could I be the only one who needs this in this way?
No, they could never understand,
not by brow of Zeus or Poseidon’s hand,
why I look that way as I toy with the sand,
pretending for the crowd that I know
how a child is supposed to act or feel.
No. Not having singed and stinking of sulfur,
clawed my way free of the quiet, secret
outskirts of Hell.

 

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