The greatest pain is not with the loss of a limb

or a loved one, being shot, stabbed or your emotions scarred

by another's hate....its when a soul is not allowed

to think....to reason outside the box....when you are expected

to conform

                          to the group think, where one's individuality

is told what to do...how to react, what to say,

when to adapt ...that is when the real you dies

a slow painful death....I am a Monarch Butterfly

spreading its colorful wings to fly out to a dull gray world

                     that likes parrots in cages, trained to speak

only pleasant words. I was not created to be  a Robot or

fashioned by human hands

                                    to be a voiceless statue, in a corner

of

          an old museum.

HEAR MY WORDS  as I speak

my fleshly heart

                         cries out to you....let your spirit touch

the sun

against the odds no matter what the danger may be....so

                     that whether I live or die,you can say

  " I was always

......ME.................."