The grip around my arms
Pinned back and held by thorns
From an aroma laced with petals
That clang against cement weighted as metal
They settle at my feet
Such decadent deception detailed critique
Unique as I may be
I feel a little crazy
Which makes me like everyone else I see
So did I pick this flower growing from concrete
Or was my deception deservingly delegated distinctly to me
Why does paradigm reassign beauty from weeds
Triumph from tragedy
Perceived distinctions seem to relinquish feelings
Preserved in anger and distinguished by healing
Released from my chains
They hang and remain and I still sit here the same
It was hard to be free
When released from my cell I kept my shackles with me
If you have been freed, fly as high as your bruised wings will take you
God will take as little breathe as a sigh
And give divine wind to your wings
Propel you at speeds where you can only hear praises ring
If you are free, fly
To your past say goodbye
It has no hold on you
The grip around my arms
Has no more power to harm