The freedom to be miserable

Our (only) future delight

Image by Billy Cedeno from Pixabay

Ah, liberty, that quaint relic of the past, how we shall miss thee! In the final stages of your life, you are twisted and turned, unrecognizable to the common eye. Zero remorse from the ones feeding you poison — they stole some of your shininess to rule and be free over others. I’d be teary-eyed were I a little younger. But I’ll bring a rose to your funeral — ever the…