I see it there, it’s infinite repeating, it reminds me of what I was meant for, it whispers the promises of a better reality across the cold dark cell, it’s twisted shape reappearing, ever looping, down and down it’s razor edges, I touch it to find my hand covered in the countless small cuts and I fear the future it holds, I do not wish to step into it for I know what waits outside the open door to freedom, and yet still it speak, it screams at me now its broken wishes, that it wants for the simple and mundane, even though it’s truth is one of sharpness, honed by the nagging thoughts caught in the folds of my mind, and I never wanted to know, every chance I have I stand in the doorway and I never take the step out because then I would be tossing aside my promised future, but I do not wish to be cut, so I stay inside