I am in prison.
Stale dark cold silver the world has become
An existence day after day and night after lonely night.
I feel the cold bars hold me into my cell
My small microcosmic world that
Holds me in the confines of what it wants me to be.
I am in jail.
I walk the hallways and hear the jeers
And taste the blood from the wars.
I speckle my mind with bits of freedom
With ideas of greatness that could be but isn't.
I see the sun only through a window made of plastic
And dream in black and white.
I am captive.
I seek the air on my skin
The fresh scent of morning and dew,
Yet only taste its sweet drift
Briefly as I make my w