FREEDOM
Why is it that my pen writes in sorrow. My paper weeps from every stroke. Every word speaks of disparity Every sentence leads to a path filled with darkness. A writer filled with bitterness. Bitterness from the world in which he lives. Always a step closer to his goal but a mile farther from it. Should this be his final goodbye? To detach himself from all the gloom. He tries to scream but there's no voice. He tries to reach out. No hand stretches out. He sleeps on a cold night. His thoughts blanket him in comfort. He'd rather drown in his own fantasies Than to float on his reality. All he wants is a silver lining. A sign. An inner voice that pulls him up. He will continue to lie in wait. For a reality no different. His happiness paramount. Nothing less. He looks around. If only his soul could roam from his body. Walk into the matrix. He could be free. Free from all the worries and responsibilities Free from the world that has forever burdened him. He is yearning for that. The