SPIRIT OF FREEDOM
I have been fighting since the day I was born, so even as a God damn baby, a young child, I was always myself, by myself always trying to get through another one of their days their way. That shit just was not me
My older brother, my living idol, died at an early age, so I had to be my mama's little good solider as she was trying to be both to my mother and father, so for me, she had to be strong you should never have to bury a child especially your first born I now realize this being a parent myself you should never have to place your sons or daughters ashes on the shelf but f*ck I was 15 years old so full of anger and rage for that the dear loving mama I am so forever sorry and in your doubt that I made you cry
Every obstacle that was placed before I jumped over and did it twice. There were battles that I fought alone without anyone ever having a clue. All they knew was how I kicked and shout.
I looked in the mirror every day from the age of 15 until last year at the age of 47, hating myself and feeling so much guilt. I was so sick of the smell of my own bullshit I thought something had to change. I had to stop asking myself if it was my fault I didn't know my father. The answer was no, he chose not to know us. I had to stop asking myself why in the hell did I cheat death so many times, and my brother's one stupid mistake got him a ticket punched to heaven's gates.
Like they say there is no rest for the wicked. I can not wrap my head around how much a year can change who the f*ck you are and how you see the reflection inside your new well-polished mirror hell, I'm proud of myself if no one else is. It's all in the power of letting go, forgiving, and healing at that moment. Feel what you feel, then let it go there is more inside of the beauty of life that you need to know, for there is no present or future. Now, as I was thrown to the wolves, I came back, leading the pack in the fight of a warrior, the heart of an original gangster, and the wings and spirit of my newfound freedom.
About this poem
Getting my shit straight
Font size:
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"SPIRIT OF FREEDOM" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/138573/spirit-of-freedom>.
Discuss the poem SPIRIT OF FREEDOM with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In