Prison

Ten foot prison walls.
They no longer lock me in but keep me safe from what’s inside.
Every time I prick myself on the barb-wire it lets me know I’m still
alive.
I taste the blood.
Yet even when I walk away and the prison is out of sight…
I remember the cell that held me, and bound my soul so tight.
This stuff is mine, mine alone.
If I don’t want it, it’s my choice to throw it away.
To purge my spirit and make it all okay.
I have no use for these things.
These things.