When I look
	In the mirror,
	I don't
	Like the man
	I see.
	Sixty years
	And more
	In the making—
	And what
	To show
	For all
	Those years?
	A house
	That confines me.
	A job
	That chains me.
	A marriage
	I cannot escape.
	A past
	That holds me fast.
	A body that
	Binds me
	With ever-weakening
	Walls, that
	Cannot satisfy me,
	And which
	I cannot satisfy.
	Prisons everywhere.
	And I made
	Them all.


© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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