The Bottom Shelf Review

Freedom at a Cost

On campus

my room means freedom.

Independence granted,

Where I can work and earn my right

To life

While still feeling like

There’s some kind of meaning.

My home in the city was

a prison, suppressed

by funds—or lack thereof.

Cold and sometimes dark,

With loss of power

From the inability to pay.

Rarely was there food that

We all sat down to eat.

It was a “fend for yourself”

Kind of home.

Then granted the gift of wealth

for school

Alone. And still struggling

to make ends meet

using the lint in my pockets.

But at least it’s my own.

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Downed Bird

They treated me

Like a downed bird

With beautiful feathers,

A precious song,

And a loveable personality

But dysfunctional, unable

To spread my wings and fly;

Unable to show them my true ability.

When my broken wing had healed

And I could finally take flight,

They treated me like

I was a completely different bird.

No longer beautiful,

As my feathers had a use

And they could not see them

From so far away.

No longer precious,

And no longer loveable

For my songs and personality

Begged for independence

And became my own.

I do not need their so-called love

That they dared to fake

For their own gain.

I do not need their so-called care

That they said I couldn’t

Live without.

I do not need them. I can fly freely.