Prisoner
Rianna Wall
(Stratford-upon-Avon)
I’d like to think that they’d regret their decision
To lock me up
I’d be a pitied celebrity
Released from the jail that he was locked in
For a crime he did not commit
Said the public:
‘Free him, he’s innocent!’
‘Keep him prisoner, he’s guilty!’
The latter seems most likely
Though how should I know? I do not remember
A blur, to me
A dish of bland food
Roughly treated, jostled
That is prison life
I cannot work out whether or not I deserve this
I think that’s the worst part
The mistreatment or the reason?
I’d ponder that, but I have more important things to do
Like count my breaths
Or the number of peas on my plate
I do not differentiate
One day from the next, each hour is forgotten
Visitors? None.
What communication should I,
A lowly criminal, deserve to have?
I think it is best to forget
Trick your mind into oblivion
Going through the motions but never living
But if you do not tell me
Then how can I know?
I am the darkness, not you
Creating shadows in the shade
Of my mind, my own worst enemy
And best friend