Imprisoned within, yet continually or selfishly 
looking beyond perceived boundaries or margins
that hold me in place.

There is rigidity of my construct, whereas I have
long determined my shell is more flexible than
I have imagined.

It is the shape I have long occupied. What I say
and feel, and what has veritably taken place 
remains my primary personal confine.

I am not always as open to change as I really may be,
yet continue living as if this is not always true.
That is now what I accept.

© 2026 j.g. lewis

April is Poetry Month