I’m not bored – but when I return a duty will impinge on my dulled senses.
I’m not crying to God – but to within, honing the lenses.
I can do it ! But my lethargy has turned to stagnation –
must not allow it to seep into resignation.
A prisoner in this faraway house – not home
and when alone in conflict for I am not free to roam –
to run to the rooftop and proclaim a mind momentarily free
for he might return – and I cannot escape the pretence – the conformity to be.
Funny – I could leap from this window, but how would I climb up again ?
Two floors down and my bones then broken helpless their strength to regain.
Nerves in shock, brains spilt, sliding through cracks.
How to collect myself and put it all back ?
Such sadness at viewing those free from this tyranny –
cats stretching in rhythm to sunshine – playing in frenzy.
I should not think forlorn since they too are trapped.
though naive to the confines as mapped.
I’m tired, I cannot find peace
– just think of those damned to pain
both the intellectual and the maimed.
I cannot this moment escape, frustration without release.
Must return to my country and then my torment appease.