There Is No Title Here

I am released
From a prison of my own making,
From a walled garden that seeded only tainted growth and sour pollen that drifted in the air cursing all it enticed
From a clock ticking it's death knell tock around the corner just out of reach.
From a waking dream that wanted to be a nightmare but didn't know how to sleep.
From a mirror always looking backwards leaving the what was in clear focus.

I am unleashed
A man with no fear, of who he was.
Who THEY think he is.
Who HE thinks he is becoming
Who he wants to be with.

The nights are drawing in and it's too autumnal to be afraid of being alone.