Temporary Refuge

I don't like it here,
Up front and to the right.
I have no where to hide
In the only place I would ever want to.
There's no dull droning
Replaced instead by what can only be described as
A soft, piercing noise,
Agitated and accusing
Like a homeless humming bird.
And I find myself longing for the tick and tock
Of the numberless clock
For a break I could take.

I don't like it here,
but it's much better than there.
While I'm a little worse for wear,
I'm not ashamed.
I'm just nervous.
Who knew that this nuclear plant of a semi-enforced prison
Could be seen as an eventual refuge?
A somewhat accepted, respected prison cell.
Stalling, putting off the inevitable.

I don't like it here,
Because it's only temporary.
It can't make me forget about there,
And what is waiting for me.
I didn't know joy
Could be twisted into something so sinister.
If only I had known
That I wouldn't like it anywhere.