User Review( votes)
written by: Robin McNamara
The freedom of my world.
Scorned by the settled set.
Despair and hope in the same day.
The freedom of my words,
Depend on the silence of my conscience,
Which sometimes screams with doubt.
The freedom of the ideas in my mind,
Is by the flow of the ink writing my history,
As I try to find my way along.
And the freedom of my life,
Depends upon the written word,
Accepted by the wicked world.