Window dream

The grey sky,
is arching through the heavens.
Freedom, a nice word,
but it is only a phrase of the real meaning.
I am sitting here with suffer,
Wasting from rare hours of life.
Thoughts of spring,
flowers are in bloom, the sun is shining and birds are singing.
Mind is confused,
moving quickly from one space to another.
Is there a meaning,
why I have to torment myself?
Soon, very soon,
will the smell of sunshine wake me up.


February 1999

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