Lemons

It's a bitter cell
of white walls
and open doors
I call home now.
Marked by the
buzzing from above
and short finger nails.
Free to leave
but not to go-
banned from peace.
Having been trapped
in fear of light
by weakness that
preferred pits
I found courage
in the last
grain of sand.
Hung from my rope
neatly drawn
so not to leave
visible burns.
I'm a master magician
fooling oceans of eyes
with my illusions
yet unable to
trick my own.