Sitting naked beside the road,
stripped of all I'd once owned.
I see a flower stare at me,
and recall being stoned.
The painful thumps upon my flesh,
the cracks internal heard,
the racing breath, the anxious feel
as my sight slowly blurred.
What crime is madness, I wonder?
What is it to be free?
A slap to faces of all those
tied to the old birch tree?