When the drifting sun nears
I drown in my own tears.
I remember the times, when freedom was mine.
But now that's all gone and I stand here alone.
The rain falls and drums on the window pane, like children's fingers.
I lean my head and watch my breath fog up the glass.
I watch the other children play, I watch the bird's fly with no boundaries.
Sometimes I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, cry until they see me.
But I know it's no use.
For I know I will always be stuck on this side of the window.
By Michelle Stawinski