Freedom is a strange thing,

An idealised result of all the things that trapped you.

Freedom does not come with the person,

Who holds you close,

Makes you laugh until tears peak your eyes.

Freedom comes when you discover the things they gave you can still be found without them.

The same joy you found with them is the same joy that can be found,

When I butterfly leaves it’s perch,

When the clouds are a brighter white,

When you discover your favourite song again.

When you find yourself without them,

That is freedom.