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