These iron bars won’t hold me anymore.
Too many lines I have crossed to turn around now
Would be betraying my old self;
The One whose face is mine
The One whose family is mine
The One who used to be my friend
The One whom I have forgotten.
With each line crossed
Each day lived,
The photos in the scrapbook of my mind
Yellow, fade, and turn to dust,
Leaving blank spaces
And rusted bars
That I am going to break
With my voice—
And the piercing notes of freedom
Will fall like the iron shards of the prison,
Announcing my arrival into the song of the world.
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