Pressure Of Freedom Poem by Stuart Logan

Open, vast caverns,
Feel like home,
My lonesome voice echoing off the stony verbal mirrors.
I call the name,
Of the one person I wish to share such a life with,
But do not want them to feel as isolated as I wish to be.
I step outside, and the sun burns me.
The sky blinds me.
The earth crumbles and dies beneath my feet.
So I step back, and I fall.
My home is no longer a home anymore.
It is a family.
A family born in true freedom.