Cell No. 10

The bars of this cell
I cannot break,
but I can kill the days,
with my daily routine of
counting the birds
flying by my window.
Days pass,
Seasons change,
People move in and out,
but those birds
never stop flying
by my window,
and I never
stop counting them.

People say
there’s a problem
in my head
but I feel no pain and
I can move it
like everyone else.

There are things
that I find hard to understand.
I don’t understand why the kid
that I played with
Jumped the cliff when I poked him.
And I don’t understand why he
never came back
to play the game again.
And I don’t understand
why I was brought to this place
people call cell no. 10.