Prison-caught,
lashing out, anger-hot,
the shape of it is wrong.
Too much width between the walls
The ceiling low
Call the contractor – not as expected!
No sympathy to screaming.
“No better than you deserve,”
No one ever said exactly
     except with the looks
     derision-drenched pity
     if even noticed at all.
Nothing can be done.

Prison walls spread but never give
before the beating on their insides.
The shape of it is wrong.
The prisoner does not fit.
The letters, they do nothing.
No amount of time in the exercise yard
can stretch the supports
or raise the rafters.
Sometimes it only gives the walls time
     to slide
     too slow
     to where they had been.
The sentence stumbles on.

Screams of defiance fade
but hope, mad hope never fades.
The shape of it is wrong,
and one day there will be a prison break.
They will weep over the crumpled flesh,
pale, insensate, voluminous.
The prison will be broken.
The prison will be abandoned.
The shape of it was wrong,
and she was never meant
     to be
     too short
     too heavy
to fly.

~~~

Prompt words provided by +C. Corey Fisk: prison / insensate / fades / nothing / flesh