Grass on the Front Lawn

my soul

is etched

with towering mountains

and grasping trees

keeping me

from fulfilling

the destiny

they have set for me.

I am told to go

and I bend,

but like the grass

I spring back

to where I was.

What is meant

for me?

Will I only be free

when I fly with thee

far away from

my gray prison of

forced destiny?

Will the wind

guide me home?

Or am I forever

trapped on

someone else’s

front lawn?

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