Stuff that stifles also frees up, what’s the difference?
There are walls all around me, razor wires, scrap metal,
Porous stone and concrete, the ruins of a silence.
Though the colours bleach as you move towards the centre
And though seeping away doesn’t quite mean quiet.
The black bend of bars showing up corners of sunlight
For exactly what it is, the broad slices, the cut and thrust.
And we’d sit matching the totals? Don’t discount it just yet.
But right now the fine needle trembles at lonesome.
Did you come to me thinking some key was magical?
Don’t throw it out just yet. But this is not the prison.