It’s the same routine every day:
Up the echoed congestion and down again
Through the endless halls of
sluggish, depressed, prisoners
Into the wisdom chambers
and into that damn support of numbing pain.

I sit and remain until the controller issues our release.
Participating in the rituals
All the while not raising awareness of my true intent.
I watch, observe, and plan my stay
All for the efforts to rule while under rule.

277 days left of my sentence.
My crime?
Following the same custom that’s has been done for centuries.
Trillions did it
but only the wise used their stay to
move forward effectively.

Though I have been imprisoned for over a decade,
enduring ridicule, abuse, and pain,
I have accumulated a strong mindset
that will differ from the inmates here.
277 days till the warden hands me my papers
so I can walk down the down those steps to freedom.