The sun occasionally creeps into his life,
As if it’s his mistress, seeking his attention.
But he keeps away, not deserving the sudden
Warmth it provides, the comfort.
Light sliced into pieces, sneaking through
The bars across the windows, as he sits
In his cell, counting down the days till he
Gets to leave this hell, this cell.
But escaping from one hell opens the door
He traded the sun for three meals a day
And a place to sleep, no regrets,
Maybe getting caught with that loaf of bread
Was worth it after all.
Maybe he doesn’t want to leave.
What would he be going back to?
The sun doesn’t need him to warm the world,
But sometimes, everybody needs some sunshine
Just to help them through the day,
Through the hours,
Through the minutes,
Through the seconds.
Maybe it was worth it.
But maybe not.