Freedom




Freedom is a bird
that can fly from here to there.
Never asking why.
Never asking where.
Freedom is a feather
that fell off that bird.
Floating through the wind
hopeing not to be heard.
But one day the wind will stop.
It will float down.
Someone will step on it
and push it into the ground.
Oh how horrible
the feather is no longer free.
It's stuck in the mud
underneath a tree.
Going where ever the wind took it.
Was that feather truly free?
That feather was a slave
just like you and me.
The wind was a pimp
and the feather a whore.
Living an endless life
a terrible crappy bore.
Whatever your lot
your never truly free.
As long as there are the are consiquences
your a slave just like me.
 Freedom is lost. 
Freedom is found.
Freedom is no more
than a feather in the ground.
                            -Kenan