Surviving Society Poem by Margaret Alice

This week stretched before me like a magical gift,
rich in promises, now we’re reaching the end, no
more freedom, no more innovation on the spot, I’ve
got to get back into the rut – office in the morning,
dinner in the evening, translation in between, I’ve
lost my feeling of calm anticipation, wish I could run
away, since my protagonists are caught in their story
with no escape, I’m stuck in my mind, I must force
the mind elevator up, must reach a higher storey of
glory, a fantasy place without context and situation,
total freedom to improvise without the restriction of
surviving society…