Paint Me

I am the man in the painting. The one that has suddenly emerged from rock solid Earth with a ra of light shining down on my newly ripped chest. Strong from tunneling free from my captivity. Chest out and head up.  Seconds away from being completely free from the dark ground that has been my opressor. But first I have to bathe in this glory of my first moment of free air.
 People always want to stand at the top of the highest peak of the highest place on Earth and scream something inspiring like "I'm free" or "Thank you". We dont know what free is. What "living". We live so that other people can envy it. All the while not living for ourselves not enjoying what we want to enjoy.  Been captive for so long that we do not know what free is and if we were to ever be free. We wouldn't know it. Tonight I am taking that idea and putting it in a decorative box on the mantle next to my different personas and self change makeovers in the lowest darkest part of my heart's basement.
 I'm not free. I don't know what it is. Am I living the "life".  I will be the person to stand  on top of that high peake and scream "I don't fucking know" or "Can I get a sign". Or if im so free why the fuck did you paint me only half out the ground. Forever rendering me stuck in this ground. Enjoying temporary. What a cruel blessing. Paint me free. Paint me on that peak.