Freedom

'Get out ' was the last word he heard,
the old gnome on the front yard,
the last thing seen.
He was told to get out by his father
and never come back again.

Tumbling over steps and cracks along the way,
riding into doors looking the other way,
he went to the graveyard,
where the dead lay.

Pouring out his soul, freedom
all around now,
he cried on dead Mr. Heralden's tomb
He looked up to the sky
and asked the world,
"Why did i ever come out of her womb?"

A dark rock lay, not three feet ahead
sharp, pointy, long and thin
He ripped up his neck and slit off his head.

Did ever a boy lay, so alive, yet so dead?