She beats upon her bolted door,
With faint weak hands;
Drearily walks the narrow floor;
Sullenly sits, blank walls before;
Despairing stands.
Life calls her, Duty, Pleasure, Gain–
Her dreams respond;
But the blank daylights wax and wane,
Dull peace, sharp agony, slow pain–
No hope beyond.
Till she comes a thought! She lifts her head,
The world grows wide!
A voice–as if clear words were said–
"Your door, O long imprisonéd,
Is locked inside!"
by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Time to escape? I read a book once about a high ranked Moroccan family imprisoned after the patriarch was executed ... and how they literally scraped themselves out the prison walls in millimeter by on millimeter via a metal spoon ... it took them months/ years ... but they did it ... sorry I don't remember the title of the book as sumtimes blockin out certain things works for a while ... anyway ... awesome post ... friend woman ... smiles ... Love, cat.
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