“I'm Writing my stoy. But i'm also plotting my escape from this prison cell.This is my plan.I will do it with words.I will write them by day.I will write them by night.I will write them on the walls,the stalls, the halls.I will write them in big bold inkon posters i hang on the concrete blocks.I will write them on little pieces of paperI stuff on the mattress and the pillow.I will write them with fingersbent and cramped from use.I will write them in bloodif i have to,but only my own.And i will keep writing them,again, and again, and again,until i fill this prison cell so full of words,that the bars bend and buckle and burstbecause they cannot contain themAnd then I will be free.”