"Prisoner"

Gazing through the dungeons, jailed, death-rowed,

Utterly self inflicted,

Not for the stones that I pelted in impatience, absolutely inadvertent,

That might have flown out in different directions, to unfamiliar kingdoms,

But for the continuous process of self-arbitration,

That follows suit over everything that I ever did, all that I do,

Upon the exactness of the expectation, of mine and the others,

All the while, it has consistently killed the power of my imagination, everything that I could have been,

and has blatantly criminalised my failures and embarrassments.

They forget, disappear and die, but they live with their scornfulness in my mind,

Nurturing the fire of instigation, not inspiration,

I will follow them, with the good advice that they gave away in kind,

And took away my freedom to be ME,

I will follow them, till I fulfil and eventually break away from the bond that we share,

I will follow them till I prove their point,

And after that, I will stand resurrected.