Prisoner

If freedom was granted, it would be wasted. 

They said.

If imprisonment was granted, it would cost you money. 

I countered. 

I left my spark. 

And carried away the remnants. 

Along with my bags. 

Which they had deemed part of the outside world. 

I left silently in the middle of the day. 

When everyone else was asleep. 

I wouldn’t stay another night. 

But others would. 

And their screaming would begin again without me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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