The mind is a trap, you told me,
We can’t escape it.
We will rot here in this dungeon
Our Alcatraz.
We are held to a high standard -
The expectation
of those who want their thoughts
put into words.
Slaves,
Like Hebrews in Egypt.
Find your own straw,
scrape the ground for clay.
I’m getting out of here soon.
If the Sea won’t open up
I’ll have to walk right in
and get my skirts wet.
(c) Tasha Chinnock 2006
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