A Kind of Growth
Bryon D. Howell – United States

My arms and fingers grazed the razor wire,
Reminding me I have been here a while.
Although my need to leave is often dire,
I faced the fences with a hopeful smile.
I then continued on back down the wall.
I think this time I went a bit too high.
I realized I was about to fall.
Reality exhaled, much like sigh.
I pushed myself to limits, boundaries,
A kind of growth which many just ignore.
As long as I keep moving, boredom flees,
And day by day, I'm headed for the door.
Where men are stored and freedom is erased —
I am the ivy growing on that place.