That was it

I was in the wrong place
At the wrong time.  That was
It.  I was a
Refugee from your
Legacy.  That was
It.  I was travelling
In the opposite direction
Very fast but never seemed
Free.  That was it - I
Exchanged the hard bars of your
Prison for a prism
Of light and luminosity, one of
Lunacy that lit me
Up like a fire.  That was
It.  Yet those glassy well-cut
Sides hemmed-me-in just as
Much as your hard walls
Ever did.  I could see 
Right through them 
But they held out 
No hope for me.  There was no
Recourse left to undo 
Those knots you left.  That was
It.  I had a life and times of
Constriction.  Your warp and
Weft combined 
To strangle me.  You made a cloth
Too strict to be worn.  That was
It.  You were too
Tight to be borne.  I had nothing
Left that I owned, nothing was
Mine.  That was it.  You merely
Made me
Wear myself down.  You were a
Shit.  That was
It.

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