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OBSERVING HISSY FITS
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I chose freedom.
Wrapped my fingers around its ends,
and pretended as if my heart
was flying above the dark clouds
I used to cry under.
I chose freedom,
and you can't stand it.
Happier to see me chained
than to see me change for the better.
I chose freedom.
Ran through luscious fields of green,
and white lily renewal.
Joy is plural for me now.
You can pluck as many petals as you want.
I've got a field of forever-growing tulips.
I chose freedom.
And, it sure feels good.
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