Senseless and hurt, the path has shown us that we cannot keep turning our sight away from the boundaries we have set for the sake of security. These limits have been imposed by those who want to contain us within their ways. The solution I propose is to find out by ourselves who we truly are, but what does this mean?
I’ve been tampered with, guilt? I can’t feel anymore, death? tell me softly, sweetly? am I free? There are no clouds holding my fall. Weary from the excuses, I breathe deeply, a sour taste expands, those restraints melt and I float away. Is this oblivion? No, I am a citrus flower drifting toward the orchard of my blossomed identity. This time no one will stop me; no armour nor chair, no title nor cycle, no money nor promise, no more praise nor disgrace will return me to those chains. I’ll craze you suffering, ‘cause I am freedom itself; nothing less!