this poem, like many of mine, is written in my darkess hours, hours of depression.


free to be me

A butterfly flies by,
So carefree and young.
A bird soars by,
Singing its song.

How deeply I wish,
I could be as free as thee,
Free to spread my wings and fly,
Free to be me.

But to this I have been bound,
This painful game called life,
A twisting path of emotions,
Pain, life, torture and strife.

This game called life,
Surprises at each bend,
Twisting, dragging gripping,
That never seems to end.

And through out the game we struggle,
A play made for pain,
But no matter how hard we try,
We never seem to gain.

Oh how deeply I wish,
I could be as free as thee,
Oh I how I dream to be free,
How I wish to be me.




Poetry by amy-leigh
Read 1088 times
Written on 2006-07-28 at 02:46

Tags Free  Pain  Life 

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