story

doesnt it feel as if i'm writing a soap opera?
this wretched creature telling the whole bloody world how pathetic she is.
perhaps not.
perhaps not.

i've changed.
no longer sashaying into classes.
no.
like a chained mustang, except that fire's been put out.
no longer craving for the vast lands.
tamed.
afraid.

no longer an indivual.
only following orders.
only listening to what others say.
living by their rules and beliefs.
conforming.
no, not the leader. now part of its herded cattle.

it's hard to find the reasons why.
yet it's been staring at me in the face.
the prisoner begs..
at your mercy- to be allowed to remain in these cells.
is it not true?
the world outside scares her.
she fears it as much as it fears her.

yes i do.
i do.

to be shut in.
to shut out.
these cells are the only source of comfort, are they not?
to seek solace.
the familiar setting.
these whom she knows, she feels for, she refuses to give up.
let her out- she'll find a way to get back in.
eventually.

to run back to face those familiar walls when everything else fails her.
to seek those unfulfiled promises from a fickle politician.
to seek the results of the casted die.