The prison
I am running my brain here and there.
I am wandering out to and fro.
Counting the dates,
Typing the degree of deed,
Visualizing the day of liberation in my head.
But,
The terminal is blackness.
I rest on the numbers of day.
I lean on my behaviors.
I depend on some help of the persons around me.
The sun and the moon are so long
that the fear of release eats up the expectation of the new day.
I am smoking the shadow of a deep sigh
in the little shade barely remained.
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