Poem My poem: "Prisoner"

PRISONER

'Tis from that rectangular translucent thing
that gazes pass through along with a pleasant dream;
Yet, thy blurry sight are never focused on it's reality,
and thy feeble mind traverses incessantly, if not endlessly;

Sturdy is the iron bar that imprisoned and contained;
Where rivers of hard work, incurred much of his pain;
That all efforts, hope and faith along were rendered as futile;
Soon, thy self with no honor, will wither and painfully die;

What wonder holds that outside of the gloomy place;
Have felt that cool wind which rendered an icy glaze;
Yet, thy blurry sight cannot thrust that high as the sky;
Still longing for freedom, and for the day to be neigh;