expected to

staying here, with free food
free lodging. and antiseptic
accomodation.

expected to like it here.

it's a privilege. unlike people
down there, scurrying with their
miserable lives.
or so i'm told.

through the bars, i watch people
frolick in mischief, wishing
all the time
that i could break out and fall down
right there.

but as i stare. people stare back too,
in expected admiration, which happens
to pass for a fleeting second.
they expect me to be inside.

expected to like it here.

i've tried breaking out.
they push me back in,
whether they know it or not.
it's the cage ive built
in unknowing glory
that traps me in.

expected to do my best in here.

forced inside, kept inside.
the guards don't know their
occupation. it hangs on the
Level of Subconscious Thinking.
and Expectations.

polished metal of expectation.
stainless bars of reputation.
i've built it up
only to want them taken away

expected to stay in there.

i confess - a mistake
on my part in the first place.
now that ive repented,
all i ask is their forgiveness.

give me a chance.

"no, you're not expected to."