Prisoner, Poem (349/365)

I am a prisoner
Plotting my escape
With hours like these
You’d be surprise I’m still awake
I awoke early
I slept late
I yearn to see the sun
Most days
Instead of glimpse
Of its entrances and departures
I’m a prisoner
Unable to explain
No clue of why
Or what
But shackled
Wrist itching to Create

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