Prison
Im in a prison.
Not a real one, but one of your creation.
I try to bust through the bars
but I can not.
Although it used to be a lot worse.
I could not break through any bars
or windows
or walls
or ceilings
or floors.
Each time I would try to escape...
nothing would happen.
Stuck in an endless prison.
Of your making.
This poem is about:
Me