Freedom Notes

I pick it up and place it on my lips

From the first sound

Every thing flows out

All my emotions

Pouring out onto the street

sometimes sharp and precise

other times soft and calm

 I mess up but I keep on going

It is my outet

I can't hear anything

I can't see anthing else except the notes

I am so into it

I am blind to the

horrors  the world

lost in the notes

of freedom

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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