My Heart Yearns for Freedom

I listen to the voices of my pulsing aortic

Sort of searching for glimpses

The sweet smell of freedom

Anticipating my release,

Leaving deceased yesterdays to simmer and burn

Yes, I yearn to be void the rule of my incarcerator

The cost of hate more expensive

than the bequeathal of love

Glove like fitting has me sitting in wait

My hope seems to be artificial,

because clearer skies seem to take on

superficial characteristics

Not realistic in showing me that I can too be free

Who me? I was just the regular guy

Working for my piece of the pie

that I was told awaits my consumption

But the conjunction between me

and making it through is merely presumptive

Never to become reality

Though some stand satisfied,

I fade away, numb as I self educate to stay alive

I predicate my days with plans to overcome the mediocre

Though less than stellar scenery

Impedes my struggle to remain sober

Demons over my shoulder

I’m prepared to make my run

I enjoy consuming the knowledge,

but my heart still yearns…for freedom