The Cell

sometime i feel trapped
in a place i can't control
rows of concrete and metal
embracing me
like a smothering scent
that lingers long after
the facts have turned
to fiction
but i'm no poet
and this isn't the time
to spin words into
webs that dangle
from the bars
of this cell;

a prison of the mind
where i've been
locked away holds nothing
but enough
of me to acknowledge
my personal prophecy;
without open doors
and dancing on locks
with no keys
makes me
nothing
and no one.

It makes me you.