prison cell poem

Would you rather sit in a holding cell

Or a prison of your own making

What if you realized that the culmination of your

Greatest and worst creation was a devastating mirror

What if you knew punching the glass was irreparable

The shardes were we penetrating and un pluckable

No amount of tweezing could relieve you of the pain

Sharp and ever present

Ever present and 100% of your own doing

Or perhaps 90%

Or 80%

When you've aged to 55,

And your mind is the shackle

What would you rather do?

Which would you pick?

Is death the only escape

Or is that just another form of dissosiation

What if nobody knew your cell number

If nobody called your name

What if no one loneliness was your middle name

What if pleasure was a two way frame

Which would you choose

Where would you rather be

Who would you call?

Who would you hope to see?

Salted tears only fill the sea