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Short Film

Each breath seems to have lifted itself
A bit more out of my chest as to catch my attention
Memories are fading so fast I can’t seem
To scoop them out of the fire
When I’m presented to myself
An introduction is becoming policy
The mention of the world outside
Was harsh and tattered
It still hurts on a sunny day but most
Can be taken in and examined for a closer look
My place is no longer below me
Home is a word used with falsity in my eyes
My branches are still reaching
and have been successful in the past
if the future could be any closer
I’d have to turn away as frames start rolling
The opening credits I’ve heard are boring and
Ceaselessly hard to watch.

Short Film

Ken Freeman

Joined March 2010

  • Artist
    Notes
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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