What Free Is

The sky is grey, doming my head.

A beauty here to see and mourn.

"Son," you say, "soon you will see

the pressure in your heart to lie."

I know this empty feeling.

I don't know what full is.

I know that I am weakening.

I don't know what strength is.

And if you have the answers for me,

would you treat me fair?

I know what you are stealing.

I don't know what free is.

The blood I drain, scolding my skin.

Your cry I feel again once more.

Now I say, "I know you see the

pressure in my heart to die."