Sometimes where we've been can still catch up, and make the mind corrupt. I can't imagine being born in moms womb, and don't even want to think of the doom.
From day none
I've been on the run
I started running in the womb
not knowing I was headed
right back to the tomb
This world preplanned my doom
I wasn't even in the room
had no idea of the coming gloom
It is initiated
at death I want to be cremated
Being out I can't imagine
being locked up like in a cage
I'm a claustrophobic
I get small MRI rage
Like a chicken born in an egg
please let me out I beg
I need my wide open space
or I'll have a frown on my face
I could not be an astronut
flying in a small spacecraft shut
No submarine duty for me
I need a big wide open sky to see
Us claustrophobics agonize closed in
I might just leave the den
For years I've been capture within
but my freedom comes from my pen
Trapped, bound and gagged until I came here. Eventually you will outgrow yourself and like a snake shed your skin or burst open and die. Thanks for a spirited look at your psychology.
I like the imagery of the "womb to tomb." Small spaces tend to make me feel captive. That's why I love living on the plains of South Eastern Colorado. Nice write.
Grab those side-irons, saddle up and join former Civil War sharpshooter Luther Henry for a ride into pure terror, western-style…think ‘Wild Wild West’ meets ‘The X-Files’.
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but my freedom comes from my pen"
Love Tinka
Peace, love and light,
Amber
God bless,
Lew
Peace,
Dayvid