limited

My prizin lies withinn konkreet walls

and brite white lites

so brite too brite for my liking

All the wardins stand up frunt

their white stick of torchure in their hands

Onto the black peece of slate they write

wurds and wurds and wurds

and numbers sometimes too

And we priziners shackeled to our seets

copie faithfully

Ghrammar limits us

creativity sets us phree