~The Epitome of Freedom


I am so tired of being grossly comatose. Feeling all the pain and suffering I'd rather overdose. OD to a place were I know I'd be welcomed, because here on this earth where it's supposed to be home of the free it's really a mirage. This no man's land looks like I'm the only one secluded, and unbelieving of this holographic projection they've described as free which is oh so deluded. This is a lie they've instilled in your brains. This is the issue on hand that drives me oh so insane, but oblivious to your eye. I'm the only one who sees it for how it is. A selfish government and bevy of hopeless, and hapless kids. Nevertheless I'm the only one crazy. Inhuman, Without Babies. Society makes it so easy to scorn the right of having children so young, but sends subliminal messages so bluntly. Having young female babies believe that the new cute is supposedly cuntly. When the people so curtly as to address the issue, the man acts like he had nothing to do with creating the problem and hands us a tissue. Either tissue or being locked is what it seems. The only options of really which the outcome never comes out as what it's supposed to be. America the Beautiful a lucre of a land. Where everybody's supposed to chase their dreams to avoid the theorem of really being free. This land really isn't free it is a place where the man is a bird and we are his trees. 

-The Epitome of Freedom
This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741