I’d rather die
Than live one more “Free” day
In this Prison…
It’s not the food or board
Which has me down
It’s that “Lock & Key” sound
It’s knowing i’m trapped here
Until Fate sees fit
To unleash my talent, potential, and wit
My Life is a Prison
From which i can barely see
Hollywood Hills glistening
I’d trade my chains
for the most meager portion
Of that endless fortune
Trade these shackles
For a tidbit of fame
A handful of fools
To recall my name
And agree in unison
'He’s got that something special'
But i’m here encaged
Roomed with my ambition and rage
And theres an ever-present anger
Etched onto my face
Because this bright something
Is a prisoner to oppressive tastes
And well on his way
To becoming
The one thing he fears most
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem