She should be happy she's in prison.  It's like a legal, 45 day autumn without Christopher Cross serenading her with Arthur's theme. 

But she wouldn't see the leaves changing colors in a window, even though she could make them happen in her mind, and unlike really seeing them, she can make them stay longer than usual.  And she could write everything down like she is doing research on herself.  And no one would be telling her how to live her life.  The metal bed won't talk and neither will the little sheets.  But sadly, the smoothe sounds of  Rick and Teena won't be there either. 

She could wrap herself up in a phantasma...and she could make things happen.  And she could be the queen of her own world, and who could stop her?  For once, she'd probably hear complete silence.  Silence can be so refreshing.  Everything would shut up.  She needs the silence before the release.

Though it's sick, she's living a dream.  To some, those three hot meals are luxury.  To some, those clean, orange jumpers are stylish.  To some, those to little sheets are warmer than having to deal with frozen toes and runny noses.  To some, the 8 by 12 foot cell is better than the cardboard box of the woman who prays that she will make it through the night. 

Prison comes in many forms that are overlooked by society.  It's easy to say, "Get a job" or "Do something with yourself", but really, to say those things is to throw meatless bones at the hungry. 

And she sits in her cell as it darkens for the night--and the silence is her only company.  And silent tears stream down her beautiful face, dampening the plastic mattress below her.  Silence.