The doors-'Freedom of Peach.'

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Whispers in the Dark

They call it free, the voice we speak,
etched in ink, bold and sleek.
But shadows move with silent might,
to steal the spark, to dim the light.

Beware the hush, the whispered chain,
draped in laws that choke the brain.
A thought once wild, now bound and tame,
a poet’s fire reduced to flame.

Yet in the 60s, winds ran high,
a silver song, a rebel’s cry.
The Doors swung wide to realms untold,
where minds were fierce, and hearts were bold.

Women stood where men once reigned,
casting spells, unbound, untamed.
Providence, fate, the gods conspired,
to gift them magic, raw, inspired.

So walk the line, stand tall, stand true,
the past is here, it speaks to you.
No cage can hold the artist’s mind,
no law can steal what’s soul-designed.

For freedom breathes in every sound,
in every song, in walls unbound.
And though the night may press and creep,
our voices rise—we do not sleep.