LifeThere are times this life is like a black cloth tied tight around your throat.
You can't get your fingers underneath,
You can't find the point of pressure, the release.
There are times this town pulls you down beneath the concrete you walk upon.
The darkness above you encroaching.
The dust in your lungs choking.
The dreamers dream is the only one that's real.
In his mind is the only place he feels.
Blind to the spoken word,
Listening to comments unheard,
He breaths deep.
Rip the skin with the dressing,
Harsh words, the strong lessons learned,
"This freedom is mine, earned!"
You will take nothing from me that I have not stripped away from myself.
Our choices define,
Our voices refine,
And in our chosen moments we are alive.