Breaking Free

I feel free ready to spring my wings and test their ability of flight. I could feel my strength rising - building - the walls that contain me are weakening, they cannot contain life forces like myself. Im picking them apart with my mind, the gun shot in my heart took it away - my heart - but it is healed now. I do not need it anymore. Im tired of the walls, they are humorous to me it makes me smile and the walls shudder just slightly. I could tear them apart with my hands, but i do not want to i simply flex my shoulders after staring at my reflection and they explode. My reflection... I have not seen it in months now. My eyes glow sliver, my smile has turned crooked, a star shaped scar covers the left side of my chest where they removed my heart. I may not need it now but i will sooner or later i need to get it back. Then the room exploded the walls cannot contain my strength any longer. Dust dancing in the air like fog, rock and metal fall form the sky like hail. The sun welcomes me with blinding light out from the rubble like the movies into a white world. Everything is white the buildings, the roads, even the clothes the mindless people wear. Everything dressed in white. Myself? I am the only thing that is in nothing but black, you could not help but notice me except the people did not. The prison did not have a gate surrounding it to keep things in and others out..... Instead there is an invisible barrier the people ignore the prison, as if the explosion did not happen. Mindless zombies. All walking around in their world of white. Lined up like civil war soldiers twenty-four in total are men dressed in white armor aiming - the only thing that must not be white in this world- black guns at me, its like a sick joke: the checker board execution squad. I look at each men their eyes hidden their white helmets i do not dare move barely even breathe unsure if they too are mindless zombies their brains replaced with computers. At the entire command of the man standing before me, his crisp white uniform blending in with everything else and cruel joke of a warming smile as he speaks in a normal voice. it would have been easier to take if it was unnatural and robotic: hello young lady, you are not suppose to be out of your room. (01172015. Inspiration graciously given by the song Backpack, sung by Justin Bieber)