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The Price of Freedom
Sometimes my spirit will kick at the walls of me, tired of being forced into straight lines and square boxes. She wants to be free, and when she remembers her captivity she hurts me in retaliation. She makes me sick. She makes me afraid. She makes me unable to walk in straight lines and fit in square boxes. It feels so good when it doesn't hurt anymore, until I'm hurt more as punishment for living outside of lines and boxes than being free was worth. What is it worth, to live in a world where it kills you to be captive but the world would kill you for being free?
© Sephe Rose
© Sephe Rose
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