Writna

'Freedom,' Said the Holy Book, 'Is a poor man's dream. It is nothing but an illusion. You would do well to ignore the fanciful imaginings and return to Earth and help your friends and family.' He was a poor man, and this was his dream. 'Work hard, give freely,' Said the Holy Book, 'And you shall receive.' He had nothing to give, he worked hard already. 'Aspire to be great,' Said the Holy Book, 'Work to achieve it and you will be great.' He only wanted to be free. 'Suicide is a dishonorable way to leave,' Said the Holy Book, 'It implies selfishness and unwillingness to share with others.' It wasn't going to be so bad. He picked up the knife, gleaming sharp and made the first cut. Blood flowed out like water breaking through a dam. Again and again he sliced. Again and again the sharp edge cut through skin flesh and bone like paper. The knife made a clattering sound on the floor. He says, ...

Freedom-Poem The Land of the Free, And a chained slave sighs. To be as free a bird, To glide on the wind, And free of these heavy burdens, Is a dream every man pursues. Time only passes for the man, That is bound by Life. Of the Stars and Stripes, That claim to be free. Only, Their people are as iron clad a slave. Truly freedom is nothing more than a passing fantasy, Man can only be so far apart from Law.  Freedom is a dream every man pursues, And a dream it is in the end. For freedom is never truly there, For the man bound by Life, Freedom is only found, After.