My thoughts are always going.
They show no sign of slowing.
They crowd around me.
They don't plan on letting me go free.
They need some sort of payment.
I pay with my own solitary confinement.
I'm locked away.
So here I have to stay.
Locked in my room every day.
My thoughts say that if I go out.
There will be no doubt.
That I will regret this breakout.
My thoughts make sure I know that this is a crime.
I decide to go, just this one time.
My thoughts won't let me speak.
I manage to get out a squeak.
And to my thoughts' delight.
It seems my thoughts were right.