The breeze touched my skin
The birds sang me their good morning lullaby
As I struggled to move
To wake
To sit
To think
Freedom to do as I wanted
To do as I needed
To move as much
Or as little
As time allowed
I opened slowly
Carefully
The breeze touched my skin
The birds sang me their good morning lullaby
As I struggled to move
To wake
To sit
To think
Freedom to do as I wanted
To do as I needed
To move as much
Or as little
As time allowed
I opened slowly
Carefully
Posted in Really Bad Poetry | Tags: poetry
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