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Chat

Prisoner

Locked inside me
is a muse.
A lifer she,
no hope
of parole.

This lifer muse,
this gaol bird,
Will not be caged.
It is her will
To spread her wings
and fly my cage.

But I am
her gaoler.

Sometimes,
Not often,
there is
day release,

And the bird,
My captive muse,
is free to
sing.

I am her gaoler.
I do not judge her
song.