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
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