In A Prison World.

When will my life end?
When can I bid farewell to
this house and its occupants
forever? Am I doomed to be
a slave forever, or will I fly
away one day, free to be my
own person? I long to escape
this prison, to stick my middle
finger up at it for the last time
as I roar off into the new day
that awaits me.

But I am dreaming, and I
must stop as soon as I can.
Dreams only hurt you when you
wake up, and the knowledge that
what you dreamed is never real
is near enough to kill you. My
dream of freedom and love is one
I can never realise, and one that
will come only when I am, at
last, dead and firmly gone.