Stinging

Retreat is something I don't meet,

retreat is something in your feet.

Do not run away,

if you came here to stay.

Why must we fly so high?

Sometimes I wish I was the sky,

big and vast, blue in nature,

go and turn from all this censure.

Never bind what must be free,

words and voices should be me,

let the sound become unbound.

Unique would be if I am found.

Where does one know the noun?

Sound in sentence, nearly round,

infinite in circle, square in pound,

I have a very long, long sound.

Tangled much like a snare,

snarls, growls and often blare.

Verse of violence in a stare,

kindness needs to rule this Lair.

Stinging comes so naturally,

can't you see I am barely me,

quiet voice in liberty,

do you know my inner being?

K.A.P.