Lunch Break Prison

In this prison of self on a steady diet of bread and water, it's all I want, or all I deserve. Self destruction is now the wave of the future. The stomach is silenced. If it had motivation it would be a hunger strike. Because it makes no sense there is no way to stop this idea. The guards don't beg, the guards don't care. I'm an old hand at this all. I'm used to the stares. I'm used to the shallow eyes staring back through the broken mirror. My shadow fades away despite the sunrises. So until I escape just keep the bread coming and the water flowing. it's the only reality I remember.