The Confines of a Cell

I can’t imagine living In the confines of a cell. The claustrophobia alone Would be a living hell. The bar-striped windows, concrete walls And narrow lumpy cot Paint a sad and sorry picture Of the home an inmate’s got. As I gaze from my apartment At my very urban view, I am struck by all the buildings Where some blue is peeking through. Still, it’s someplace I can get to If I choose to go outside, While the prisoner must rage Because such access is denied. Some say all of us are inmates In the prisons of our minds But a vista you’re not part of Is the bane of the confined.