Bound

Why can’t he be
what’s in his mind.
So restricted
Dipicted
Convicted
…Blamed
Why can’t he see
what I can?
He needs to find
an outlet
an exit
Standing on a cliffs tumbling edge
waiting.
Fate doesn’t want him.
Nobody does.
They slate him.
They hate him.
Picking apart the pieces that make him.
Frayed rope by his feet
he’ll never be tied.
I hope he’ll never know
but if he jumped he’d fly

.

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