Prisoner of Low Expectations

Bars rigid over the edges of my soul.

Tacitly approving sin that boxes me in to a hell of my own creation.

(Thus begins the process of forestalling the reach of infinity.)

Silent judgements pass between hidden eyelets.

Defining a false potential, inescapable to those with no means to protest.

The feedback loop is severed,

as my life becomes fodder for felons.

A parody.

Unsure of what steps constitute ascent.

Perhaps, it’s best to stay put.

Rather than ruin their perception of me.

@timetogrowdude