Liberate

Maybe we are dealing with
the insurmountable. Maybe
this labyrinth is nothing but
a cruel illusion that
circles upon
itself.

If we saw ourselves, these poor creatures,
how we run into the hundredth corner
just when we thought
our heavy hearts could finally
hinge on that last gasp of freedom,
let these chains crush
ever so
gently.

Yet, as much as we are
the misfits, the disfigured
pieces to this puzzle
of conformity, absurdity,
we shall one day draw
this courage, to watch with brave eyes
as this maze shifts
and fades to
white.

Maybe we are dealing with
the insurmountable. Maybe
we are dealing with
ourselves. Maybe
we can be beautiful, and maybe
we can be
free.