FREEDOM

A dream, a lie they said.
Young I may have have been but,
I was above average. Held captive,
held down, locked in, chained up.
Freedom was not within my grasp.

Only to be released to go to school,
but there was even worse, pain, misery,
disgust. I was the centre of attention but
not in a good way. Centre of pain.
Freedom was definitey not within my grasp.

Back and fourth, back and fourth was
countless days, huh, I lost count.
1, 2, 3... 100, 200, 300.
I couldn't handle it I needed to escape
my hell, my personal own hell! It won't be
easy, as I'm locked up in this box, this room.
Maybe freedom is within my grasp?

This box is the embodiment of hell, emiting
powerful waves of pain, anger and yet able
to cosume it aswell becuase I'll tell you now,
I screamed and shouted to the skies. All these
walls did is absorb them. I was voiceless.
Is freedom really within my grasp?

Positive thoughts they say, they don't help
when your in my situation, 1, 2, 3... 20. The
numbers soared up day by day, those numbers
represent the number of cuts I had on me.
But I could never give up and kill me self, life is
too valuabe to let go and give up.
Maybe I can obtain freedom? maybe.

Wake up day and day to the same wall, same floor
but today was different, it was time for a revolution,
that boy you called hurtful names is now the boy who will
stand up to them! I will fight for what's right till I achieve
my victory. I have hope, I pray and pray, God you must exist.
Freedom, here I come and I will take you and never ever let go.

The clock strikes 8:00 Am, dragged and pulled out the box, the hell
feeling like a better person. They knew something was up,
the number of cuts was at 20, it never went up. Thrown to the wall
in anger and pain, "Try something dodgey and watch".
Freedom can you come and get me please!? it's urgent I PROMISE.

Off to school, the  day starts with my usual slushie to the face,
puch to the locker and hurtful words. 9:00 AM, the therapist awaits
me for my regular talk, but to this day I had been a quiet person but
it was a change. Words flowed out my mouth, tears rushing down my face,
the therapist held my mouth  and started bursting out
in tears, droping her board to the ground in disgust and upmost shock.
Freedom, I can feel your presence. Stay with me.

Soaring through the crowd of pupils, she went to the principals office
to explain the tragedy of my life. Calling the police to my house to arrest
my abusive, demonic parents. I should of been happy, I SHOULD OF!?
but what if something bad happend and they came after me? my parents!
what if they locked my up in the room again and never let me out!?
Running out the office, pushing the crowd of students I legged it out the gates.
Freedom, Stay stay stay stay stay!

The therapist saw me running and chased me down to stop me, I ran ran.
Running hopelessly and crying, I only saw foward and not to the right or left
of me. If only I knew a car was comming to the left of me. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BOOM.
I was unconscious so they say and that the therapist, Miss River, saved me.
I felt an overwhelming amount of happiness as I felt something had left me,
those chains and those locks and been relased and that my grasp with freedom
had been reunited.

My parents, those hell demons had been jailed and that I had been put into a fostercare
but the good thing was that, I was being fostered by Miss. River.

By Jamie Grant

Note - If this really does happen or fit to anyones life make sure you tell someone, or you too will have
your personal hell.