96 Steps

There are 96 steps up to my office...
The stale stairway beckons me...
8 flights of 12 steps...
Run to the bottom, and I'll be free...
The hot, June air greets my face
every morning around 10 o' clock...
I place a pen in the heavy metal door,
as for it not to lock...
I'm appreciating my freedom these days,
for I am but a vagabond...
Pretending I am just another guy,
they don't know I'm out on bond...
I run up the stairs, taking two at a time...
Out of breath at the top... Trying to forget my crimes...
Don't know how long I'll be here, and I'll probably miss these stairs...
Everything is a temporary daydream, until there's nothing but nightmares...