Prisoner

--The bars, the chains the whole nine. I can't help but watch the time pass me by. So faced paced life is, but here I am. A mere prisoner. Not your average prisoner; no, thats not me. This time, I, the prisoner am I victim. A victim to your judgmental eyes and your cutting thoughts of appraisal. You yourselves feel you have the power to decide my worth, but who are you to decide my worth, when you have nothing to do with my fate, dear friend. Woe is she, some think to themselves, but my alter ego can't help but think "Woe is you, who feels the right to judge me before even discovering yourself".

Even with this said, I can't help but second guess. Am I what you say I am? Or am I something totally different? I can't help but sit and contemplate the difference between my soul in the eyes of society and the heart in the eyes Reality.

I continue to watch the passersby, without giving a second thought as to who they are, and where they come from. All that matters is that I am me, and they are they. Behind these bars, I'm somewhat safe from them. I'm safe from their shards of rage, that often slip from their tongues, and slide through the bars only to penetrate my soul and leave me scorned.

In the end, all I can do is wallow in the sounds of my shackles, and every now and then, bring joy by reaching out to touch one of them every now and then. But I'm always sure to bring my hand back quick enough, so that I may not be hurt again, so that I may not be mistreated any more than I already have; so that I may live tear free, and may appear strong to those stinging judging eyes. So that you may not make a mockery of me.

I continued to tell myself that I am my own prisoner, I choose to do this on my own; but how can I believe this, when I do this all because of society. A prisoner is a prisoner, yes. But who is it up to to set me free in the end. Myself or you?