Clipped Wings

This place is a cage.
Cleverly disguised as a building.
The windows are covered,
nothing can be seen.

The clock is my only friend
I stare at its hands,
knowing it was moving as fast as it could.
I hear the popping of guns,
the clicking of pens.
Knowing others are as impatient as I am.

But I look around,
they're all staring blankly.
It's as though they have no emotion, no face at all.
I want to escape,
to spread my wings.

But now
I wake up.
The clock is dead,
I deeply sigh.

And they still stare.