When You Think Your Free

A crippled fantasy unfolds,
Oh, how could that little dove be me,
Will you tell me what my story holds,
Oh, why don’t you just let me be.

Reality denies my existence,
How could you steal her away,
The effect continues, it’s my persistence,
I killed myself to make everybody pay.

As the crippled fantasy unfolds,
Oh, how could that little dove be me,
What kind of poison does this vile hold,
Oh, my world is hurt this cannot be.

Hatred is a wrath that seems to set me free,
Coated with glory my body fades,
Resistance to the truth, a killing spree,
Massacre myself and then I'll let you be.

Ian Robert Potapoff