logo white
February 24, 2000
All Poetry

MY CELL

Trapped in a prison of my memory.

Fighting out of a concrete cage that doesn’t exist.

Yet every time I get close, I can feel my face press up against it.

It’s as solid as the ground you walk on, with no shape.

It’s as small as a dust peck, with walls like a vault.

Looking for an exit for a place that no longer is.

All Content Copyright © 2021 Jack Roman Photography All Rights Reserved
menu-circlecross-circle linkedin facebook pinterest youtube rss twitter instagram facebook-blank rss-blank linkedin-blank pinterest youtube twitter instagram