My thoughts are a prison

My imagination a stockade

All that I am and all that is
Contained within me a bastille

My room is a correctional institution

My home is mandatory confinement

This community is a reformatory

These sidewalks, these streets and
the road side signs a penitentiary

The television, the radio, the news
and all the crap they want me to
buy is a jail

The lines and borders drawn on a map, policies,
politics, governments and religions
are a fenced pen

The forests, deserts, rivers, streams,
lakes, hills, swamps, marshes, mountains
and oceans are a cell

This planet, its moon, the stars and galaxies
are a vault

The universe contains me
It restrains me
There is no escape