The Escape Artist

I slide through a window.
Dropping two stories to
the ground. I run around
trying to find a place
to escape. I am gone;
I am free from the past
and the shadow it casts.
I run down the street
with the toughest feet.
Barefoot and confused:
the moon is my muse.
I was free – a simple sign
To escape again. I escape
to find the perfect rhyme –
words that define my life.

4 thoughts on “The Escape Artist”

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