"Equality in suffering is communion,
though each is isolated by its pain.
None have trod my shrinking path, but some may say,
I'm not alone, guessing at kinship by weighing pain.
Wanted to ask the passing faces if they've heard
the bars of bones shut down on hope,
if they've felt the skin imprisoned by angry pride.
Probing for sparks, anticipating, imagining
the stolen question.
I answer silently, yes, I too have
noted that my sentence, those finalities of servitude
yet become, could be shortened by escape.
But I expect no answer.
I never pause, for I could not ease their pain,
only add to mine."