A taste of freedom

Oh hell you’re beautiful,
and when I say beautiful,
I mean beau-ti-ful.

You’re beautiful like tides and waves
trapped in a glass bottle,
ready to smash it from the inside,
and break free.

And when you will break free,
(because you will)
it’ll start with a small crack,
followed by a hurricane.
A hurricane as big as the ocean,
so sudden, so furious, so adamant,
that it’ll shatter the bottle that once was your prison,
turning it into a small pile of sand.

And you,
after blowing, smashing, virvolting,
you’ll be left of the shore,
on your knees, panting,
the pile of sand on the floor next to you,
and the taste of freedom on your tongue.

As you’ll manage to catch your breath,
the wind will soften,
the ocean will calm down.

When finally the silence will have settled in,
you will rise,
stronger than you’ve ever been,
stronger than the hurricane,
stronger than the ocean.

You will stand on your feet,
all flesh and blood,
heart beating in your chest,


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