There's a poem
Inside me
Roaring
Like a caged lion
Beating itself
At the bars
Of my imagination
But the truth is
I wax prosaic
Conjuring
Caged lion
Clichés
And imagination
Bound by bars
I may have
Inadvertently
Expressed
A sad truth
My imagination
May well be barred
But to what end
To protect
The innocent
From my
Wildness
Doubtful
Bars do cage
My imagination
I can feel them
I tap gently
Or whisper
Into the night
Seeking
If not freedom
At least
A glass of water
A crust of bread
I pass time
Quietly
My imagination
Asleep
Dreaming dreams
Forgotten
In the light of day
Still,
I imagine
Myself
Lifting weights
Building strength
So one day
I can bend
The steel bars
And break free
But, alas,
Even that image
Is as hackneyed
As a Superman
Comic book
And about as
Realistic
I accept
My place
Rely on wit
In lieu of
Originality
And begin my
Next set
Of thirty.