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The jingling of keys and the hesitant creaking of the iron gates herald the arrival of the freedom that I have been longing for all these years.The reasons that drove me into committing that ancient crime seems smudged from memory but the moments of solitude and contemplation I spent within the prison walls remain as fresh as wet ink on paper.
The door opens to a whole new life ahead, but strangely there is no happiness or relief but a looming grey cloud of fear and uncertainty. Thoughts flowed incessantly within the four walls propelled by hope; the padlocks never attempted to confine them as I inked shreds of yellowing paper. But today as I walk out of the open door and merge with the madness outside I hear the click of a lock from somewhere within.
Written for the topic "Open" at Lillie McFerrin Writes