by Val Mischka
Wednesday Evening Thoughts
I try to concentrate,
But I fail miserably.
All I think about is last night at 11:15, when you said “you should leave,”
And so I did.
I followed your orders,
I was the prisoner to your guardsman.
Is spent within a box with only three holes at the top.
Death at this point wouldn’t even faze me, for,
I am sick of having no escape.