Manifest

Whilst sunlight sneaks between the bars
to creep across the floor
and pool in limpid puddles by the door,
redemption seems as distant as the stars
whose beckon seems much weaker than before.

I languish in this messy pen,
the ichors fairly boil
to spew upon the paper and embroil
anyone encumbered by a likewise yen
to stop, and gauge the failure of my toil.