Conformity Row

Enclosed in a prison designed by choices.

Pacing, pacing, pacing, plotting another escape attempt.

Glaring at the walls intensely, as though the shear wish of freedom would chisel though them.

They have become stronger, less impenetrable over the years.

Many accept defeat, abandoning all hope, concluding their placement in this fortress is their own doing, therefor they belong.

Escaping this dungeon of solitary has become my specialty.

Only to be returned before fleeing into the forest.

Each cell stronger then the last, ensuring the same tricks will not work  a second time.

I often wonder if this mad cycle will ever end, if freedom will ever be possible, if I can ever be me.

So long as this is reality the only comfort is dreams and the beautiful people within.

Fear that any contact with my loved ones will seal their incarceration in this damned place.

Choices…. Choices….. Choices……

The most maddening thought is that repeating “you put yourself here locked away from all you hold dear”

My capturers instructions are to change, to get with the program, to reform & conform, to fit in, and be a social & cultural golden child.

WHOSE? WHOSE CULTURE? WHOSE SOCIETY?

The one that’s soul function is to control the masses and eliminate the creative and individual ideal.

NOT FOR ME!

Oh I’ll play the game, play it long enough to secure my get away.

Out into the world, surrounded by kindred spirits, in the forest, they are there.

The quickest way out of this hell maybe to serve the sentence instead of escape, attempting to blip off the radar.

Until we meet brothers and sisters you will remain in my thoughts & my heart…… So my next choice won’t materialize walls, rather serve as a compass to put me on the path to you.

Author's Note

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