Freedom is an anxious wait
Thresholds block my only gates
Shivering in stale air
The frost bite reminds me it's unfair
Inhale instinct's breath
Lungs ache I await for death
I hold my hands to grasp the moon
Leaving the sky with no room
No expansion, no growth
Just like this worlds left me alone
Hands cupped around the throat
I plan never to let go
Give me my air back
The moon, this sky is still in my eyes
My only friend. Is there anything left?
Are graves my only place look?
When I look back at what this world has took
I am sick, Medicine man. What do I have left?

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