Photo by laura adai

What if our life is a resocialization program for the cosmic prisoners?

Thank You!

“Blooming flower on the sidewalk.”

Cosmic penitentiary,
endless rows of alien inmates
looking at the stars,
thinking of the planet
closest to the soul.

Unpassable see-through screen
separates and divides,
different races, ideologies, and crime.

Last chow,
pat on the back
from a distant relative,
sharing destiny and good-luck wishes.

No hands,
no need for cuffs,
nowhere to run or fly,
following the faceless officer
to the edge, to the place never seen
through the porthole of the cell.

Bright room,
too much light
for tired belly eyes,
floating table,
take a sit,
no such function
so will stand.

Sense of hostility, contempt,
filled the room, intoxicating filtered air,
talk of luck, last chance,
sounds like a pardon,
maybe freedom,
forgotten meaning of the word.

They inject something
into clear jelly skin,
tired eyes losing battle,
falling in the void,
so warm, is it freedom?

Bright lights piercing virgin eyes,
hands holding, wrapped in plastic,
memory deleted, a new page,
some power drawing
to the crying, smiling creature,
beating heart…

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