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

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