The Real Tortured Poets Department Was the Friends We Made Along the Way

Liberty Mutual

What does freedom really mean?

Is it what I want

Looks nice but is it for me?

It's got a few strings, kind of taut

I was taught that freedom

Was something I could feel

But now that I am older

It slips away, unreal

Freedom from oppression

Freedom from the bars

Freedom from my love

Freedom from my scars

I'm bound by who I am

But is that really bad?

A [ ] is all I'll be

But it doesn't make me mad

Lock myself in my room

So that I can cry

Don't see other people

So I can ask myself why

By myself I'm happy

But by myself I'm scared

Is this really freedom?

Or is freedom just not there?

The past is like a knife

Cuts me fruits and food

But cuts my skin as well

When it's in a bad mood

I want to be seen

But not so that I'm hated

What does freedom really mean?

In a life like mine so gated