The Fallen Angel

They left me,

but still,

I am remembered.

.

May I draw?

May I think?

May I write?

May I love?

You may.

.

So, I throw my pen,

I take my pencil.

So, what may I do now?

.

May I draw?
May I think?
May I write?
May I love?

You may.

.

What to do?

My freedom is given,

and freedom itself is locking me inside him.

.

So I free my freedom.

May I draw?

No, you may not.

.

Then, I started to draw.