Limited

Bars so thick they might as well be walls.
Confined in this humble hell of mine.
Straining at the seems from a lack of space.
Gratitude is being erased.

Lights so bright I might be blind for good.
Fragments loiter where memory should.
Mounting pressure crushing out my senses.
Feel as though I’m living in past tenses.

Funneled into a narrow tube of conformity.
Prattling voice keeps it’s droning tendency.
Sapping energy from my very core.
Same old same old is more than a bore.
Culling joy out of future hope.
Making me feel as if I might choke.

Silence so broad it might never end.
Drowning in place might be a trend.
Siphoning out what should belong to me alone.
Am I real or simply a clone?

Subjugated beneath the hanging tree.
Hysteria for some but not for me.
Watching as these days turn into nightmare-scapes.
Recalling events gives me body shakes.

Funneled into a narrow tube of conformity.
Prattling voice keeps it’s droning tendency.
Sapping energy from my very core.
Same old same old is more than a bore.
Culling joy out of future hope.
Making me feel as if I might choke.