Dreams From an Escapist

Trapped in a cell,
meaning to simulate natural habitation, in pity.
We want nothing more than to experience hell,
teased by seductive aromas from the city.

Now, even the changing seasons
remind us of our desperation.
Each thought against our home creates shameful treasons.
So why isn't it easy to leave without an invitation?

Such silence in this town!
Makes one's ears buzz and ring.
You can hear each fish in the pond drown.
What place is this where not even birds sing?

Remember when we knew not of terrors such as crime?
and when death seemed so far away,
we had no realistic concept of time.
Whatever caused out thoughts to so drastically sway?

Was it the poisoned stories from the North?
Spoon fed into out waiting minds
which caused us to want the wings to escape this nest?
Or our own internal wish to break anything that binds?

But for now, these hopes must be left for a dream.
everyone who speaks of leaving, are the ones who always stay.
Like carnival goldfish, spoken wishes unceasingly die. So it would seem...
That only secrets avoid the smell of our earthly decay.