“Not my prison”
This is not my home
Not my tan clothes or
scratchy wool blanket
My fucking chamber to rest
or my niche
I am not an inmate
that is a title bestowed
by monsters in blue clothes
This is not my job
and these are not my ‘co-workers’
I have no boss
Issues they have are not my problems
These are not my shackles
or my constraints
I didn’t make, buy, or ask for any
It is not my phobia of lost control
that build these cathedrals of despair
This is not my home
These are not my ‘friends’
I have no desire to humanize
or fraternize