When I spit damnedly into the wind
my words split, smack
and smear across my face.

If I could only turn myself around
no longer facing
and somehow change,
does this bring release?

…………………….

I am crinkled autumn leaves
caught along this fence.
Nothing but grass blades and prison bars.

We are meant to be free.

And I ache to be dislodged.
This hardened yellow plaque

holding me

disfiguring my smile.