This World is a Freedom to Exist.
To which man lay claim the virtue of honour?
We are to rise – beyond the vision of our eyes
Beyond the prison of the skies.
This world is a freedom to exist.
What of the dreams I left fallen in the nightshade
Are they to be forgotten? Left rotten and rotting to fade.
My chest grows tighter
My muscles aching
Spit into the bottle
The bottle it needs breaking.
For too long now I have not kissed the canvas blank
Who am I? Who am I to thank?
Am I to bank on the surreal ideals of others?
Find me my brother – I love him.
poem by David Lacey
Added by Poetry Lover
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