r/ThirdEyePoetry 1d ago

Poem šŸŽ­ borrowed freedom.

Somewhere between writing them
and writing myself into them,
I misplaced the border.

Now I cannot tell
whether I gave them my darkness
or borrowed theirs
and forgot to return it.

They became everything
I discovered could not bear to be aloud.

And I—

became very good
at calling that freedom.

— Crownless.

8 Upvotes

7 comments sorted by

2

u/Obviouslybroken 1d ago

Relatable... Love it....Very awesome āœØļø

3

u/crownlessarchive 1d ago

Glad it resonated. Slightly concerned that it did, but glad nonetheless. ;)

1

u/greyskulls18 1d ago

I'd never considered that perspective... Darkness can be borrowed. hmmm.

2

u/crownlessarchive 1d ago

Perhaps. Though sometimes the borrower and the borrowed are the same person.

1

u/jaesea 1d ago

Ah freedom, such a far, far away land. It's beneath our feet, yet we never touch it while it rarely lets us go.