WILD by Abby Jean

May 10 ’16

They call me wild.
I think about it.
What do they mean.
What are they defining it as.

I dive into the crevices of my mind.
I think.
Because I’m free.
It must be.
Because I’m free, and I know it.
I’m completely free, really.
I think about it.

Free will.
Free spirit.
Free heart.
Free mind.
Free like a bird flying, soaring amongst blue skies.
Just. Free.

I smile on all levels of my existence.
They call me wild.
But free feels sooo fuckin good.
I smile.
On all levels, all dimensions.

Life is what you make it.



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