Alive

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.

 

 

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