I speak

4 2 0
                                    

I speak of freedom
though more is told
by these heavy shackles
I choose to hold
the spring is fleeting
this spring is crying

I speak of faith
but who am I
I cannot feel the clouds
nor reach the sky
the spring is running
this spring is dying

I speak of truth
it flees my skin
my own words shall choke me
I cannot win
the spring is burning
this spring is flying

this spring has flown
this winter, mine own

life [poetry]Where stories live. Discover now