Open Air Prison

The city hums ~ a cage of light,

A view of Toronto from the Island

Steel and glass, both day and night.

Each box a cell, with doors that lock,

A numbered home upon a block.

We rise to buzzers, not the sun,

March out before the day's begun.

We punch the clock, we play our role.

And trade our time to earn control.

We wage, a rent, a rationed breath,

We labor just to dodge that debt.

The wardens wear a suit and tie,

Their towers scrape a corporate sky.

We scroll our chains on glowing screens,

Chasing ads and empty dreams.

We're told we're free ~ we nod, comply,

While cameras watch us from on high.

The yard is wide, the walls unseen,

Yet every step is pre-routine.

We eat in lines, we shop, we sleep,

And call it life ~ but never leap.

Some dream escape in art or wine,

A protest sign, a picket line.

But most stay silent, numb, resigned,

Imprisoned by their own design.

So ask yourself: what makes you stay?

The comfort? Fear? The daily pay?

This open-air cell hums with song ~

But freedom knows it doesn't belong.

Get away,

Even if just for a day;

The island calls just across the bay

Perhaps you'll find a new way