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Silent Prison
Unable to speak, chained to the wall
There are no windows and not even a door
There’s green behind the fence, but the fence is far too tall.
A room the size of a horse’s stall
We are taxed on everything until we are poor
Still silent, and chained to the wall.
Go, go, yet I’m too tired to crawl
Maybe it’s not too bad, it’s just the space I have to ignore
Maybe there’s green behind the fence, but the fence is far too tall.
Hungry, itchy, curled up in a ball
Lying down pressed against the cold metal floor
Still frozen and hushed, and chained to the wall.
Remembering how, then, you always used to call
But now you just watch from behind the fence as I implore
For the freedom beside you, behind the fence that is far too tall.
I can’t speak, bawl, or ask for a shawl
You’ll just scream and hit and shout and roar
I can’t say anything, I’m just chained to the wall
Trying to see the green behind the fence, but the fence is far too tall.
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This article has 2 comments.
I can’t speak, bawl, or ask for a shawl
You’ll just scream and hit and shout and roar
I can’t say anything, I’m just chained to the wall
Trying to see the green behind the fence, but the fence is far too tall.
In my history class, we have to study 10,000 years of history. I wish I was joking. In those entire (excruciating) 10,000 years of history, one event stood out to me: the American Revolution. An image of the events leading up to the revolution appeared in my mind: US being oppressed by the UK. I personified this in my poem, and I hope that readers will feel inner turmoil I felt when I learned about the revolution.