You may be treating me well, but a prison is still a prison, no matter how comfortable.
Sometimes when I dream I can feel the warmth of Gods sun on my face, the wind through my hair.
I breathe in, the air is crisp, bracing and clean. I hold the breath for a moment, then let it out, and I feel as though my entire being is cleansed.
And then I run, run forever it seems, empty space in front of me, all my worries left behind me. Blue sky and white clouds above my head, fresh, green, grass beneath my feet.
I dont run to reach a destination, I dont run because I have to. I run because I can, because I am a free man, with no shackles, no borders, nothing to contain me but myself.
And then I wake, and look around, all I see are magnificent walls all around me, with no door in sight. No sky, no grass, just walls and stale air.
Just this splendid prison that keeps me.
Just a shelf....
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Xdqwerty:
