Micro PoetryMusingsPoetry


Like a sledgehammer on ice,
My pain is crushed down to size
And yeah, furthermore it dies.
I see with my eyes,
A flourishing garden beyond the isle.

Oh! Sing to me the melodies of nine,
For I am free of debt without a dime.
My soul escaped your paradigm
And my will is no longer thine.
Enslaved no more; freedom is mine.

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