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.