bars at your back, and their stripes permanently etched into one's field of vision. so much so, that you feel they're a ubiquitous feature of the world beyond. the cage should be a hated place, but one can grow to love the cage. the cage is shelter. the cage is delivery address for food & water disbursements. the cage forms rollbars -- like on a dune buggy -- protection in the event of a sudden & unexpected crash. the cage offers one a range -- narrow as it might be -- of distances at which one's captor may be kept, and, as long as the cage is shut, that gives one a delightful illusion of control. what a hated place a cage should be, and yet how conflicted are the captives?
In Captivity [Free Verse]
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