The adolescent looks solemnly into the dim light that filters through the small window. He dreams, yet without sleep. His nightmares do not leave him when he awakes, and by them, he is haunted by the shadows of his recent past. He is taunted by the thought of freedom, of living without having to fight for merely a breath.

He dreams of that freedom, but finds it to be just out of reach. He gives up on that freedom that he so longed for and finds himself falling further into the darkness and despair that clouds those around him. He wished he could find freedom like that of the birds that fly without worry. They were born with their freedom. Those wings of theirs, their wings of freedom.

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I thought this would be interesting to write. I look forward to it.

Also, please excuse my lack of activity. School has started, and I decided it would be best to spend time getting accustomed to my schedule.