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
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