The open door, Wafting fragrance of freedom beckons. In her veins, Freedom-the coursing blood. The tears Taste different today, A taste of exuberance, perhaps? Outside Freedom resides- in the darkness of the night, In the somnolence of the multitude, In the empty alleys and streets. Today, it seems to be everywhere. It seems to be making an attempt to Give wings-To imagination, Stoke fire-in the heart, Conjure-visions of sweet future. One last look Towards the closed door of the room, Where all these long years Fear had resided and Now lay dead, killed! The eyes attempting to Imbibe a look of confidence. It should have been a moment of exuberance. Yet, Why do the legs not move? Is it that the ghost of fear has now come, To bind in a spell and Hold herself captive forever?
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