Pallet Painted with Freedom.

Old writing I just found on my myspace...

Chains.
Breaking through the roped off area, to become new./
I can fly higher, and touch the tip of a silver cloud,
I can hear the highest melody of combined whispers, from the city below./
My feet whisp off the ground, and i raise my head to the sky,
as I soar, My body free, and fragile/
The sun's light sparkles through the clouds,
and the Sky becomes more than air,
but becomes a pallet painted with freedom.