The grilled metal bars caging inmates
are the same giving us the sense of security
we strive to feel in the jungle,
grey rock solid
concrete, stone and metal,
with a hint of middle and struggling class
smell in the air
keeping us high on hazy visions of sophistication.
The cage definitions choose the words
its inmate will let out
to describe his status.
Caged in or out,
secured from the outer world
or secured from its beauty?
protected in a concrete box
or confined by it.
The only difference between us
and cells mates is
we don’t worry when the soap drops
All others are like the sun to a new day
the clank clank of padlocks,
faces peeping through bars and tiny windows.
shitting in bowls
Shackles in the name of mortgage, tax,
hustle, jobs, relationships
Despite the fancy titles we give
our solitary confinement,
our urban houses,
we are behind metal bars.
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