The Escapist

I lie here trapped,
restrained in this casket of hurt,
with only ants that more at my feet
and a small flickering flame for company.

These chains bind me
like the squeeze of a boa constrictor,
darkness as far as my damaged eyes can see,
somewhere there must be a light?
There has to be a light? right?

We are born in to this world of bondage I suppose
and sometimes this life takes us for granted.
I am restrained only by myself doubt.

Why is always a lock but never a key?
Through these broken eyes I truly cannot see.

But these words, these poems
are my freedom my release,
my escape is certain,
a literal lyrical miracle

In this world of fiction
that I have created
I alone am king.

Hope is not an illusion
it is my fact
it’s all I have to cling on to.

As I plan my escape
I start to think outside this box
I don’t need this flesh I can leave at once

And so it will remain,
as the walls come tumbling down.
Always the essentialist,
forever an escapist