This room is my prison.
A dark cell governed by darkness I sit in.
This bed is my home,
and these walls – the only thing that listen,
how the sound changes from silence to shrieks in a second,
all the pain they’ve reckoned and all the punches they’ve taken.
They breathe in unison with my fears at night,
but they keep silent, all four polite.
Pillows – the tear catchers,
catch every drop from my eye,
These things are all I have – all that keeps me alive.
Never alone in this room that I own,
This place and these walls are all that I’ve known.