the window

object writing exercise from 13 september 2006, 7:30 pm

My prison and ever present source of freedom. Clear as day to let in the moonlight. So close yet so far from the world on the other side. These pangs of sadness that rest deep within my soul gather dust just as the corners of your panes. Each morning the sun punches through shattering my sleep, alerting me to the start of another day within these walls that hold so many secrets. From my rest I wake to dream. I miss the scent of the air that passes so freely on your flip side. I lean in and feel the sun's rays resting in you and inhale deeply as I hope to taste my freedom. Pane on pane brings pain after pain, each day brings me one day closer. I wait. I dream. I hope. I believe I'll make it out of here and be the one looking in. I'll free myself from my prison of sin. Dearest window you are nothing but the cheapest of glass. I sit and silently fight my battle and very soon I will pass you by.