No More Glasshouses

Free.
Free is what I feel when I lay distant from a family devoured by their guilt and sorrow.
Free!
Is what I feel every moment I recite poems,
Hoping they become a good omen for another reading to alleviate their worries over the anticipation of Tomorrow.
Free!…
Is all I can feel as I isolate from what is toxic to the palms in my hands itching to not throw,
Daggers in words sharper than swords ready to cut whomever is sworn to prop low,
In dark corners no one has a choice but to cross!
Grow past what is not so tough as it appears to look,
And,
Breathe…
Breathe a sigh of relief!
For the blessing of being able to escape a tragedy,
Within a glasshouse crashing down candidly,
As,
Karma for the constant pain it kept handing me…