Freedom

by Kim Wilson

I wanted to be left feeling invisible because to remember would be unfeeling; compassionately socializing with the enemy shouldn't deliberately weigh on my feelings. Why would my sanity truly depend on your survival; that can't be. Why can't the feelings of being down have its window shut; spilling to the ground. The explanation of when I rage; has been shut up so long that I've forgotten the rules and pleasures to openness; if there's really still a place for me. The only thing that's changed is that the applause is only quieter. The bright lights of 'insane'; frightening nights is what my soul knows to be forgotten amongst the sane. I try not to weep or willow but out-casted is, as out-casted does. Don't cry for me because I hide part the way; let's get it straight. My forgetting my whole self because I have been born again and again and again and...; I ain't mad, I go on. How do you unscramble a rattled mind that's struggling to be born again with the hope I have left; I've lived in the flesh, now die in the Word. God has plans for me, as soon as I figure at what they are.