pretending to break free
self-imposed imprisonment
sometimes that’s the way to go
censoring yourself so to speak
all for the good of your own cause
high winds swept opened the gates
the dogies suddenly giving chase
out in the open and light on their hooves
far away from the slaughterhouse
for whatever reason you remained
shackled behind shuttered doors
digging into the dirt and burying
the same old bone time and again
having managed to escape the knife
you failed at living outside the box
tap tap tapping your own inner self
praying one day you’ll be heard
april two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
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