The prison

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.