I shall be free,
when the sky falls down
and the hell rises up,
when the office walls crumble
and the lazy stop faking,
to a certain degree
that no one will ever frown
upon my refusal to catch up,
the eternal curse they mumble,
and to the souls I sing:

Free at last,
Free at last,
Thank God almighty,
I’m free at last.

Bursting sorrow follows easy madness.
The lead that trails
behind all words
and thoughtful thoughts
look so familiar that
my eyes mourn always.

For I am a mess,
A prison of own,
too young to bear,
too heavy to care.

I know no verse,
I write no more.
Free at least,
at last I hope.