Out of Schemas

They speak language of greyness From birth I determined to live it Closed in a gray Gray like a mouse BoxTown Imagination taking routes to roads but possibilities Limited by indoctrination of unreachability holding a glass of schemas enforced on me strongly inclined to drop it semi accidnentially but more not than so A few threw at me a couple Of discouraging words but I could choose To make them my cyanide or Something else Some of Them looking though unaware of The door opened in front of them I've grasped the idea of chains more deeply I'm 'free - er' as if and Listening to the passing time I drift With tranquility as my companion