The Prisoners

This shooting pinching and piercing it is the swollen knee carbuncle peeping out of the skin at first as a harmless boil or rash in two days it is bloated and red I can't just bend my leg browsing television channels all day long; dragging along breakfast, lunch and dinner like everyday; one after another repeated images revolving on getting over the ordeal On the seventh day as the carbuncle subsides I restart my daily chores to get my pay queuing and commuting in buses and trains squeezing hassles enumerable to endure to feed the mouths and more It is an endless battle to be fit and healthy to earn the monies for all the niceties caught up in all this unending struggle we all feel free we are not prisoners