Inhale the salty, crisp air.
Fingers tracing lines through mist
Covered brined metal, despair,
If you’re ensnared, flung away
From society, rebelling on the bluffs
Sharp gusts turn Golden poppies to dust
But living’s meant to be a bit rough.
Breathlessly tight, laugh when the light
Suddenly appears, illuminating cast-
off care, unaware a house
Stood there - Judgment passed.
Puritanical outcasts, Rejoice!
Freedom comes under the light
When we unite, revolutionaries to
relinquish fears, as open air reveals,