Freedom

'My country tis of thee'

This has nothing to do with Obama.

'Sweet Land of Liberty'

This has nothing to do with Mitt Romney.

For once, this has to do with me.

'For thee, I sing.'

Maybe, in a few years, I will be there. Maybe more. High school graduation, turning eighteen, really does nothing for me. Maybe in five years time you will see us. Me and Freedom. Holding our hands in the air, wearing old copper and posing for the pictures.

What am I, Freedom, without you? Just one lone body stuck here in my bedroom. Drowning here in my basement. Bars in the window; barbed wire at all the perimeters I want to go. So I sit down and paint Freedom in my basement.

But it's hard with out the visual, because I never saw her stop at my bars. I never once saw Freedom walk passed my cell.