Words
Your words hold me prisoner. Like Andy Dufresne, I am held captive despite my innocence. Like him, I am a convict of the circumstances, A convict living within the boundaries of your mind And I peer out of the cage Always dreaming of the Pacific that remembers nothing. I dream of a wave that will wash away my memory as it crashes. I could look upon this as inevitable, Just bad luck. Perhaps it is. But I dream so vividly of a life with possibilities And I wonder how this could ever be reality. We are not victims of circumstance, We are warriors in our own lives. Sometimes holding nothing But words on a crinkled page. And perhaps your shield is too thick, To ever be pierced.