A/N: Okay, it's called Freedom, it's about freedom. This is my first attempt at poetry. It's exactly the same as the first draft, which was written in the middle of the night when I was suffering from sleep deprivation because this thing was beating a tattoo in the back of my head and refused to let me sleep until I wrote it down. So who knows what we'll end up with? Let's just give it a whirl and see what happens. I don't own Animorphs, by the way.
Freedom
I open the eyes, hardly daring to hope,
And watch as I waggle the fingers. So natural…
No. My fingers. My eyes.
I'm on my knees. Shakily I stand
And walk away.
A Free Man.
Friends, Family and Peers surround me.
I can do what I want,
Say what I will to them.
But the experience has made me act differently, and they notice.
Act normal.
They can't know of the Invasion, the fate of the human race.
I can't tell them- not now, not yet.
Just be happy.
I am happy, drinking in the sights and sounds again.
The array of colours blind me- and I remember.
I am Free.
But sometimes at night, the guilt creeps in.
The catch. The price of my freedom.
And every three days, as I crawl out the ear,
He gives no fight, no struggle.
Just a crushed spirit's tear.
And I discover that, in this life
There is no sympathy for a Yeerk's POV.
A/N: There are two things I like about poetry. One, there are no rules unless you're writing a haiku or something. So it doesn't matter that both the structure and the rhythm are seriously screwed up. Actually, I kinda wanted it like that. To show the confusion and wonder of getting out the Yeerk pool, I guess.
Two, Poems mean different things to different people. Everyone who reads one can have a different idea about what the deeper meaning of it is. And, if you've got a spare minute, I like to hear some other people's interpretation. If you had one. Personally, I just found myself feeling sorry for the Yeerk. I guess they have as much right to be free as anyone else. We call them 'evil', but then they just want what we all want. And they got extremely carried away. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to start a 'Save the Yeerk' scheme, 'Slaves for Yeerk freedom', but… it's confusing.
To finish, as there will be no other chapters, I like to thank any and all reviewers. Your CONSTRUCTIVE criticism will be gratefully received. I already know my poetry sucks, so don't bother telling me. Just tell me what I could do better if I take another crack at this poetry malarkey. Thanks again!
Waffles!