I'm caged and handcuffed
In my own jar of ideas
In my own complex maze
In my own limited atmosphere
It's not enough I'm not enough
I'm given a ceiling instead of a sky
To set off my fireworks
Other times I'm given a mountain path
When all I can walk are highways
I try, I try, I try,
But ghostly figures keep rising from my hot coffee
Reminding me of who I am in my own story
Then I desperately interrogate the poor brown residues
And the cup's grounds answer me
With the darkest shade I've ever seen.
