31 July 2012
Cold air. I breathe. It's not fair. So I leave.
Glass streaks. Called tears. Paving wet streets. My own fears.
They rip a path. Into my face. A saddening bath. I can't escape.
Then I look up. And there I see. I am enough. I can be free.
When will I cease? Whence do I rise? I'm no disease. I'll believe no lies.
Cold air. I once breathed. But I did dare. To be freed.
So I rise. From out of me.
Whence Do I Rise? • Opuss № I