Extravagant Prisons

Jun 11

Written By Gigi Lopez

Extravagant Prisons by Peter Vicente

It's a prison, maybe,

carpeted floors

make the tension, easy,

a little bit more

and statistics thrown out,

must reenforce

that the pretty prison hasn't a form.

It's a prison when I cannot say no,

It's a prison when eye contact ain’t hold,

and the tiny, tremors, darken your soul,

a perfect prison makes you think it's a home.

And the brands make you think that you’re doing just fine,

and the words from above make you think its benign,

that the fight all around trumps the fight from within,

and the wall of the past isn’t changing.

I don’t like the system I’m born and I'll die in,

I don’t like the world defining my triumphs,

I don’t like a game where I don’t know the rules,

where the winners perceived are the ones looked as fools.

The guards are my mentors,

my warden? Tradition.

My passions are bullets,

with shots always missing.

I stare through the bars as I’m trapped in my cell,

my dreams are the stars I can see but not dwell,

my thoughts are the days scratched into the wall,

each line an angel escaping from hell.

I’m stuck in a dream that life never ending,

is life not worth living, and life without fault ain't a game.

Extravagant prisons we’ve built in our minds,

to escape and we go up in flames.

Counterpart