The path so trodden down you can't get out,
You held my hand on my lonely route.
When darkness flowed you found your fears,
Of the approaching unknown frontiers.
I brought you my feelings on rusted platters;
Rusted while the others mattered.
Oh, complaints; they weren't compliant,
And my relatives weren't reliant.
I'll stand alone and you'll fall with the masses,
My love for you like cold molasses,
It's so slow it's nearly halted,
And I'm the one who's faulted.
I stood by you but you stood by the rest
Dressed in Sunday best, at my protest.
I've flown over the cuckoo's nest,
Just like your parents guessed.
Marching down the beaten path,
My name is gathering laughs,
But I'm through the looking glass,
You'll often look and always ask,
What's freedom like?
- April 2nd, 2010
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