at the gates

Standing on the steps I feel the cold hold my hands.
My mind as if I can understand.
There’s reason to this bind I so loath.
But my path is set for the best I know.
Quickly I run in the direction of home.
But then I think “my home is gone.”
Some how in my heart it resides,
Or within the electric strapped to my side.
I touch it… no sound.
I decide to turn around.
It is my turn to experience, my time to endure.
I’ve been deprived and hence, my freedom has allure.
All the while the wheels turn a man,
And another behind him powered by hand.
Thought of this runs through the door,
And my instructor, on his ears, a technology whore.
With expression I exclaim a half hearted smile,
Into the café to sit a while.
Red man speaks,
As I sign a peace.
I order a repeat,
My coffee in silent retreat.