Imprisoned

Your bones are the bars 

encaging your heart

Your scars are the ink

tattooed on your skin

        Markings to remember

        Markings to forget

Somewhere inside the prison of flesh

inmates scream out, never lowering their cries 

        pleading to escape

        begging to stay

You wonder if the warden can hear them

all the way in the nice comfy office

        maybe he’s ignorant of it

        maybe she’s ignoring it

You watch as the others are let into the Yard

        they’re free in a way

        they can see the sun

but you’re stuck in the cold night- blinded

 

lost in solitary confinement 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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