Running in Place
Since when did freedom
turn into restriction?
running as fast as I can,
to leave this prison far behind me -
not to be entrapped by burly guards that tell me I am to
remain here and
refrain from a million and one actions.
These thick steel bars have thick hairy arms
of their own,
holding me back when I try to run -
they return me to the confinements of the cell,
whose small square I am to plod in
for the rest of my life.
but I'm running in place.