The clock strikes eight o'clock and the realization sets in. The birds have stopped their singing, the sun has ceased it's shining, and the wind is not blowing.
There is nothing but my thoughts and I. The world is still, not a cloud in sight. I am a prisoner taken by night.
Succeeding in forcing my thoughts out of my mind in the day, they hit me like  a ton of bricks.
I am a prisoner.  They lock me in my room when all I want to do is sit and watch the stars. They force me to give into the shadows, to sit by myself and think.
I am not allowed to write, for my hands are tied behind my back and they have broken my pencils in to. Forever do I long to be freed, to be who I am, a free spirit. I do not wish to be captivated by normalcy any longer.
They feel it in their fingertips and in their toes.
I was meant for so much more.
My heart yearns to be free, to feel what it wants without critisim.
My thoughts ache to be written.