Free

Free.

Not controlled by obligation, or the will of another. Not imprisoned or enslaved. Like a plastic bag stuck in a tree. I am here in a place I shouldn’t.

Or so you think.

Like a bird in a cage. Looking out into the world it should be flying in. But I am 'safe'?

Holding me back would be the biggest mistake. Letting me be free in the world I may not 'belong' in is what I want. What I need. I can see how much people are upset by my leash going a little farther. Well I am here to tell those people it is not their life. It’s mine.

Free.

It is what I am about to do. Free myself from this cage of lies, the collar is off, the door is open. And I am running, running away only to go home. Home? The kind of place that more than half the world calls 'the bad part of town' it may seem too hard, or rough for this little girl that is just learning things for the first time. But this little girl is more than ready for that side of 'town' to be home. To be free. Why else would the feeling of happiness come from the thoughts of it?

Leaves are off the trees. Even the leaves have some freedom to expresses themselves in color, movement. And the birds are leaving me. Staying in one spot isn't an option for them, so why me?

The door is opened and I am taking a deep breath in and one foot is stepping into the raw lifestyle of the world. Colored by spray paint, tainted by the lost, and pieces of hope in every corner. So what if this place is 'unforgiving' and I am not 'strong enough' to hold my own.

For being young I do know this, I will NEVER have to 'hold my own' there is a man, bigger than any of those doubters, any of the towns that are 'bad' and all the locked cages. He is holding my hand, He is the one who gave me this drive to be free. He would never let me sit in a cage and watch all the hurting people go bye untouched by a smile.

Free. It is all I will ever ask.

And it is what I expect.