march was so long ago

in the future is next month so far away

shifting in thought because I am

placed in a box and every night and at first

light in the sky I am let out to perform

and do chores required of me

chained up symbols of where young ideas suffer

each time I envision the future

doing what is asked of me every single time

combining plots of escape with designed imagination

on the occasions that I somehow manage to dream at

night it is often of love like a fresh beginning brings

different from being ruled over as I am now

it seems like passion is something only movie actors show

that is the only time I see affection without anguish

intensity and pain are like clothes I am forced to wear

only sleep in a moment of relaxing but sometimes

not even then if reality finds a way to creep in

someday I will get away and be free