Redemption of Rags - 2011/06/14

Here I sit in stratosphere
Winds whispering I can fly
Below the world is waiting
To see a man choose to die

Here I cry many stories up
Lamenting the long journey
Contemplating notable ways
To finish a futile tourney

Here I do perceive nothing
My mind feels unencumbered
The insanity birthed below
Lives in days now numbered

Here the deadly jetstreams
No longer pose any threats
Serfs plunge for salvation
While I have paid my debts

Here I reject their poison
Fueled by parasites within
As real silence shall cure
Restraint now wearing thin

Here I know I have nothing
But the words you now read
For only on the low ground
Can freedom plant its seed

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