Talking Hours
I must whisper into the day and scream into the night.
These days are woven and this prison holds me tight.
The only time I can speak in my own tone-
Is when I’m sending my guilt to my family over the phone.
These guards are more than enemies that collude.
They are stealing our laughter so that our painful frowns can intrude.
It is as if I am waiting on an institution.
That has been here forever, and forever will be my delusions.
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