Freedom

On the forest floor away from his neat pile of clothes

he was found in a puddle of red,

devoid of the warmth he once gave so freely to others;

veins depleted entirely.

Never again to feel the daily terror that consumed

every waking moment and

the gash on his left arm perhaps to some a badge of defeat

was his portal to

.

freedom

.

His job was completed yet not in a fashionable sense

but still took him home

away from the hackneyed words that ate at his inner core;

no longer afraid.

Who's to say that he had no right to do what he did,

still causing trouble and sorrow;

once named a "felo de se" at least this time he earned it;

his final day, on his way to

.

freedom

.