These words, sewed together,

Like threads of a fabric,

Each letter, engraved with meticulous

Precision.

Each word, dangling keys to my prison,

Each sentence, a rusty chain linking me to the past,

Each stanza, a heavy lock on a cell, I cannot surpass.

Each poem, a reality of my life

I can’t escape.

Each poem, a William Shakespeare tragedy.

Each poem, plotting lines of my fate,

Every comma prolonging torture,

Every full stop, a hope for an end.

I hope to break free, to unlink these chains,

I grope for the key to unlock my fate,

I hope that between these lines is a remedy for my pain,

I write because, for me, there’s no other way.

To the watchers, watching from the outside,

My hope is that you learn and understand,

The words we craft can be a sanctuary or a prison.