The Confines of a Cell

I can’t imagine living
In the confines of a cell.
The claustrophobia alone
Would be a living hell.

The bar-striped windows, concrete walls
And narrow lumpy cot
Paint a sad and sorry picture
Of the home an inmate’s got.

As I gaze from my apartment
At my very urban view,
I am struck by all the buildings
Where some blue is peeking through.

Still, it’s someplace I can get to
If I choose to go outside,
While the prisoner must rage
Because such access is denied.

Some say all of us are inmates
In the prisons of our minds
But a vista you’re not part of
Is the bane of the confined.