Last Freedom.

Hurry hurry to the beating drum

Before the followers doth come

Quickly then to the meeting tree

Running forward to reach for free

Look behind to see blistering rage

Stopping now would mean a cage 

Ragged though her body is worn

Almost there to reach the freeborn

The quiet of the sky reforms to blood

Her feet betrayed by the grip of mud

Screams with all the force she has inside

That the free will save her from the mass

Her demise approaches but the free still hide

The followers descended on her crippled form 

and the freeborn joined them too

She realized in her final gasps of hope, 

Their freedom was her cage.

Categories: WritingTags: , , , ,

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