Free at Last

The doors swing open
to a new era of me.
The cold breeze of hope in
a swealtering plea.
May this be the last
tragedy of this kind.
Sewn and bound in a time past,
I file this year away in my mind.
Sterile walls of a familiar cell
are adorned by new growth and direction.
Formulate a new future to fortell
in a refreshing predilection.
I've bided my time
by writing the ryhme
of a metamorphosis
conjured my me
in my time of need.
I need no sorceress.
There is magic in the Will
and power in Drive.
When all you have is time to kill,
guess who will survive.
Then again, maybe I died
and gave birth to a new idea of me
leaving my old husk aside
after I ripped through it to be free.
This is my declaration
of this new spell I cast
and the consecration
of being free... free at last!