Payton Cooke

Does he lament his life's imprisonment?

Does he regret the choices of the past?

One bad choice, his intentions apparent

Though the future seemed, in stone, to be cast.

Ripped up, out of the world he knew so well

Gasping, grabbing for the familiar

His body writhing in a silent yell

His final thoughts getting less and less clear.

Now it is here, that he is stuck for life

Wandering around the empty glass void.

Perhaps thinking fondly back before strife

Calmly contemplating his dreams, destroyed

Is this how the fish thinks, in his prison,

Kept from the sea, the glorious vision?